


A New Beginning

by bcbdrums



Series: The Ambassador & His Wife [1]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Andorians, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Flashbacks, Gen, Interspecies Relationship(s), Light Angst, Politics, Romance, Slow Romance, Tellarites, Vulcan Culture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-02-05 21:21:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12802638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bcbdrums/pseuds/bcbdrums
Summary: Sarek took a deep breath.  “There is…someone here, at the embassy…who hates me.”Archer’s eyes widened.  “Hates you?  Who is it?  I can have them go through sensitivity training if you think—““It is not a human,” Sarek said, shaking his head.





	1. A New Assignment

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is currently the earliest part of the series, "The Ambassador and His Wife." The series records the life and career of Sarek, and this installment is about his rise to status and about the first time he meets Amanda. So far I have been publishing the series out of order, sorry. I'll try to do better from now on. But there _is_ an earlier part that will be published...eventually.
> 
> Please note, some characters in the tags are mentioned only. They may appear in later chapters.
> 
> Please also note: I reject the 2009 movie and its sequels. I have not seen any of ST: DIS so have no opinion yet but I have heard that some longstanding canon is being retconned, which I also reject. If you don't like that, you don't have to read my fic. All of my ST fics are based on the canon that ended with ST: ENT and ST: Nemesis. I consider no novels to be canon. I do consider things like the ST Encyclopedia, Star Charts, and certain script notes to be canon. I do accept some popular headcanons based on the novels. Just the ones I want though. Because this is fanfiction and that's what we do here!

 

 

Steam rose from the tea in erratic, inconsistent swirls.  

_Such is the nature of life._

Sarek watched the curls of steam rise and dissipate for another moment before pouring the second cup and returning the teapot to its place.

“I am pleased we have this opportunity to talk before your transport leaves.”  The voice of his grandfather drew Sarek’s attention back to the present.

He watched across the table as the grey-haired Vulcan lifted the steaming cup to his lips and took a drink, only to lift a brow slightly and then look upon the younger vulcan with what Sarek could only interpret as deprecation.

“ _Plomeek_  tea, my grandson?”

“For your health, Grandfather.”

Solkar sipped the tea a second time without breaking eye contact, his right eyebrow rising ever higher.

“I appreciate your concern, but my health is in no way declining.”

Sarek leaned forward slightly.  “Why else would you be reassigned after over one hundred years of highly successful service on earth?”

“For the very reason that I have been successful.  The situation on Andoria has always been delicate.  The High Command feels that my presence will ease the situation.”

Sarek sipped his own bland tea and watched the steam rise and dissipate again.

“My grandson.”

Sarek lifted his eyes beneath his dark brows.

“Do you feel that our mutual reassignments suggest failure on your part?”

Sarek straightened.  “I merely question my own reassignment when the negotiations I have overseen have been successful, despite the...distrustful nature of the andorians.”

Solkar leaned back on the sofa and moved his fingertips back and forth over the surface of his cup.

“Ambassador Archer has been retired.”

Sarek’s brow rose.  “Why was I not informed?”

Solkar looked down briefly.  “Your inexperience, my grandson, and your unorthodox methods have led the High Command to decide that assignment on Earth would be the best use of your skills.”

“Unorthodox methods?” Sarek asked, leaning forward again.

“Trekking through the ice caverns with young andorian cadets, for example.”

“Is exploring alien culture not merely an embracer of our philosophy?”

“It is.  Your espousal of IDIC is in fact why you are well-suited to serve on Earth.”

“Please, explain,” Sarek said.

“First, let me ask—can you generalize your experience with humans?”

Sarek looked at the swirls of steam, evaporating much more quickly now that the tea was cooling.

“I cannot.  They are chaotic.”

“But the andorians…?” Solkar prompted.

“Are by nature distrustful and prone to anger.”

“You see?  Who better to serve with humans than one who so effortlessly lives a life of embracing diversity?  And the High Command feels that my vast experience with a species so…chaotic, as you call them, will be useful with the andorians now that Archer has been retired.”

“You are an agent of the High Command, not of the Federation.”

“Soval will continue to serve on Andoria.  But Archer’s health cannot be maintained in that environment any longer.  He has already returned to Earth and is flourishing, from what I have been told.”

Sarek leaned back and contemplated the new information.  Everything his grandfather had told him was, of course, logical.  It seemed that the ministers knew precisely what they were doing.  And he in his youth, was blind to the galactic importance of their machinations.

Properly chastised, he sipped his tea again and decided to move on.  _Kaiidth_.  What is, is.

“If Soval is remaining on Andoria, to whom will I be assigned?”

Solkar took a breath.  “Suubar.”

Sarek’s breath caught as he looked up at his grandfather.

_Kaiidth.  Kaiidth!_

Sarek set his tea down and rose, quickly stepping to the window and looking out across the canyon.  His eyes of course were drawn to the bridge and the place of _koon-ut-kal-if-fee_.  He followed the bridge back to the cave and the memories flooded his vision.  The fights, the broken bones, the screaming, the destruction of his grandfather’s home, and finally the deaths.  

He turned away from the window, head bowed and eyes tightly closed as he sought to banish every memory of his personal life for the last thirty-one years.  A hand on his shoulder caused him to suddenly straighten, shaking off the emotions he had been inundated with.  Shamefully, he met his grandfather’s eyes.  But to his surprise he found no judgment in them.

“I grieve with thee.”

Sarek slowly released his breath and calmed his racing heart, nodding thanks to the much older Vulcan.  He walked past him and returned to the sofa where he drank deeply of the _plomeek_  tea.

“There are a great many vulcans at the consulate on Earth for you to spend time with, unlike on Andoria.  It may be…good for your own health, my grandson, to be with your own kind.”

Sarek watched as Solkar returned to the other sofa across from him and resumed drinking his tea.

_So I will not be forced into spending all of my time with Suubar._

“Grandfather…” he began, telling himself it was logic compelling his tongue, “does the High Command not take personal relationships into account when making its assignments?”

Solkar leaned forward and spoke slowly and deliberately.  “It would be illogical to allow one’s personal relationships to interfere with the performance of their duties.  Would it not?”

Sarek held his body still, alternating between the desire to tense in discomfort and collapse from futility.  “It would be.  Quite illogical.”

“Then you shall find great success on Earth, my grandson, if you continue to let logic and IDIC guide you, as you always have.”

Sarek finally sank back into the sofa, unable to fully block the memories that his two years on the ice planet had done so well.  “Grandfather…”

“Yes, Sarek?”

“Has my...personal failure shamed you and your house?”

Solkar leaned further forward, his elbows on his knees.  “The failure was not yours, my grandson.  You acted in the only manner available to you.”

“It was logical…” Sarek said, repeating his father’s words to him over the years.

“You always have been.”

 

 


	2. A New Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Live long and prosper, Sarek,” she greeted, her voice light and musical.  It reminded Sarek of the pure, unaltered tones of a _ka’athyra._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: We join Sarek again as he journeys to Earth for his career change from a Federation ambassador to a Vulcan consul. Enjoy!

 

 

Familiar earth-tones came into focus as Sarek materialized inside the shuttlecraft.  The next sight that greeted him were three pairs of vulcan eyes.  One pair, set deep in the olive-toned face of an older vulcan, moved toward him.

“Peace and long life,” Sarek quickly greeted, raising his hand in salute.

“Live long and prosper.  It is agreeable to see you again, Sarek.”

“And you, Vanak,” Sarek nodded his greeting to the older Vulcan.  “I did not expect to see you.  Are you not going to Andoria with Solkar?”

“No, I have been reassigned as Consul to Ambassador Suubar, with yourself.  The High Command would like to leave a familiar presence to interact with the humans.”

“Logical,” Sarek acknowledged and turned his eyes to the other two vulcans in the group.  One was piloting the shuttlecraft and had resumed that duty.  The other…

“Have you met my daughter, Arsa?”

“Indeed,” Sarek said, raising his hand in the _ta’al_  again.  The woman did likewise and nodded her head in greeting.

“Live long and prosper, Sarek,” she greeted, her voice light and musical.  It reminded Sarek of the pure, unaltered tones of a _ka’athyra._

“Peace and long life,” he returned, thinking it odd that she repeated the formal greeting as protocol only required it be given once.  He assessed the woman before him, judging her to be at least half his age.  He remembered meeting her in his youth when he visited his grandfather on a diplomatic mission to earth.  The child, Arsa, had been present with her own father.  She now wore her hair in the traditional manner but was dressed far less formally than her father, suggesting she was a mere passenger.  The logic of her presence on the shuttle escaped him.

“Arsa will be serving as my new aide on Earth.  My former aide is joining Solkar on Andoria.  Before joining the diplomatic corps he was a starship commander.”

“Indeed,” Sarek said, raising his brow.  The woman’s presence had now been explained, but her lack of formal dress as a member of the diplomatic corps had not been.  However, it was of no importance.  “I apologize for my tardiness.  I had disabled the comm in my quarters so that my meditation would not be disturbed.”

“It is of no consequence.  We have no other appointments until this evening, and our pilot has assured us his schedule today is light.”

“Even so, you have my apologies,” Sarek said, bowing his head before the older consul.  

The pilot turned and acknowledged Sarek with a nod before turning back and taking the small craft into warp speed.  The stars streaked past the windows before returning to their typical, distant twinkling a moment later.

Sarek took a seat in the aft section next to the neatly organized rows of his luggage.  Vanak and Arsa sat on the bench across from him.

“When was the last time you visited Earth?” the older Vulcan asked.

“Not since my youth,” Sarek replied, glancing at Arsa.  He imagined he had been close to her current age the last time he had been on the chaotic planet.

“You will find that much has changed since the development of the Federation.  And…since the reinstatement of the High Command,” Vanak continued.

“Indeed.  Solkar has informed me of the great technological strides the humans have been making.”

“They are making great diplomatic strides as well.  Despite their…unpredictable nature, they seem to consistently gain the trust of new species they contact.”

“Perhaps the Ministry of Anthropology should make a study of humans in first contact situations,” Sarek suggested.

Vanak’s brow rose in surprise.  “The High Command is currently reviewing the potential of such an endeavor.”

“It may well be time we learned from the humans,” Sarek said plainly.  He wondered at his boldness but could find no logical explanation for it, so simply let the statement rest.

Vanak seemed unperturbed by it and settled back on the bench comfortably, hands folded in his lap.

“Indeed,” the older consul replied.

“After you have settled into your new quarters there are plans to dine with Ambassadors Tos and Suubar, and an honored guest.  You will meet your new aide at that time,” Arsa spoke up.  Sarek again noted how pleasant her voice was to hear.

“Has my new aide served on Earth before?” he asked.

“Yes, he has been aide to your grandfather for the past thirteen years,” the younger vulcan replied.

Sarek raised a brow at her recognition of his familial ties to Solkar.  “Good.”  He turned his attention back to Vanak, unsure yet what to make of the young female before him.  “Are there any pressing situations on Earth of which I should be informed?”

“No.  The only present crisis in the Federation is with the andorians.  This should be an uncomplicated transition.  You have re-familiarized yourself with the mandate of the High Command?”

“Yes.”

“Then I foresee no difficulties.”

Sarek leaned back on the bench and wondered what Vanak knew about his relationship to Suubar.  If he knew anything at all, Sarek reasoned, it would be unadulterated ignorance that led him to believe that his assignment to the ambassador would be anything but uncomplicated.

 

 


	3. A New Confidant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why do you repeatedly refer to Ambassador Solkar by his relation to me?”
> 
> Sarek watched as his new aide seemed to be contemplating something before finally meeting the consul’s eyes.
> 
> Soran set his tea cup down. “Your grandfather…Ambassador Solkar…told me about Suubar.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Changes are coming quickly for Sarek as he settles in on Earth and meets someone he'll have to decide if he can trust.

 

 

Humans, Sarek decided, cared far more about the comfort of their alien guests than did the andorians.  His quarters in the consulate were not only spacious, but decorated in a decidedly vulcan manner, from the layout of the furniture to the tile in the lavatory.  He knew he would have no difficulty meditating here.

One distinctly human element of the design however was the rails on the balcony.  He opened the tall, glass-paneled doors and stepped out onto the pale cream cemented surface.  It was different than other human architecture, but not quite vulcan either.  And the tall, silver rails would never have been found in a vulcan design.  He ran his hands along the smooth steel surface and wondered why such an incongruency existed.

A moment later he received his explanation.  A sudden, harsh breeze assaulted him, lifting his robes and causing him to stumble.  He stepped back from the rails and wrapped his arms around himself against the cold, looking beyond the rails now to the open air beyond them and finally down to the ground several stories below.  The low stone rails of a vulcan balcony would not protect anyone from those sudden breezes.

Cautiously, he stepped forward again and gazed out at the landscape.  Starfleet Headquarters stood in the distance, and near it the defunct San Francisco Shipyards, currently being converted to a museum.  And beyond that stood what Arsa had told him was the Golden Gate Bridge, crossing over dark, murky waters.  The other side of the bridge disappeared into thick clouds.  Hills stood on all sides of the waters, and glowing lights from the cities would block any view of the stars from his balcony.  It was quite different from home.  But, preferable to the ice of Andoria.

Stepping back inside he was gratefully welcomed by the heightened temperature, set at approximately the average temperature of a Vulcan springtime.  The humans had seemingly thought of everything.

A chime at the door drew his attention.  He stepped to the doors himself to open them rather than allow the computer to allow his visitor entrance.  He wondered if it would be Arsa offering to take him on an another tour, even though he had told her that the first one had been more than sufficient.

But instead of the female, a young male stood before him when the doors slid apart.  He was formally dressed in the robes of a member of the Vulcan Ministry of  Consular Affairs.  The man raised his hand in salute, and Sarek did the same.

“Welcome to Earth, Consul.  I am Soran.  I am to be your aide during your tenure on Earth.”

Sarek wondered at the man’s instant familiarity.  “It was my understanding that I would meet you at dinner later this evening.”

The young man lowered his hand and folded his fingers low before him.  “I thought it may be more agreeable to you if we were introduced privately, before the dinner.  But if you prefer I will take my leave and speak to you at that time.”

Sarek considered the man who watched him with a countenance that communicated only honesty.  He remembered that this man had served his grandfather for thirteen years.  Perhaps he could gain more insights about the diplomatic presence Vulcan had of late from his new aide than he had been able to from Vanak and his very talkative daughter.

“I would prefer that you stay.  Please, come in.  I will prepare tea,” Sarek said, stepping aside to allow the young man in.

“Allow me, please,” Soran said, quickly moving to the kitchen.  “Your grandfather developed a taste for a particular Earth variety.  It would gratify me to tell him that it was the first Earth cuisine you sampled.”

Sarek’s brow rose at the man’s seeming eagerness.  “You may proceed,” he assented after a moment.

The young man began opening cupboards with practiced ease and set the water to boiling on a piece of Earth technology.

“Was this previously Solkar’s residence?” Sarek asked after few moments.

“It was,” Soran replied, placing the items for the tea service on a tray.  “Would you prefer to take tea here, or in the sitting room?”

Sarek raised his right eyebrow at the odd question.

“Humans have different traditions regarding tea,” Soran said by way of explanation.  “Your esteem of our philosophy is well-known.  I consider it part of my duties to learn which human traditions you will partake in so I can best serve you.”

Sarek couldn’t decide whether he should be suspicious of the young man or impressed by his work ethic.  He chose the latter.

“Tell me, what is the human tradition for tea?”

“It can be taken with a meal, or by itself.  Depending on the time of day, different foods may be consumed with the tea.  It is not uncommon for humans to sit at their dining table for tea,” Soran said, looking at the tall table in the room with its tall chairs.

Sarek had wondered about that table.  He supposed it would be useful if he ever entertained humans in his quarters.

“I prefer our way of taking tea.”

“As do I, Consul.”

Sarek followed the young man back to the sofas and the low, round table between them.  Back in the kitchen the vessel holding the water began emitting a high-pitched whine as steam rapidly escaped the spout.

“What…exactly is the tea that Solkar preferred?”

Soran had stopped the vessel from whining and brought it back with him to the table.  Sarek watched as the hot water was poured into the tea pot over the loose mixture of leaves and other dried bits that gave whatever the tea was its distinct scent that was now rising with the swirls of steam.

“Humans often give irrelevant titles to things,” Soran said, glancing up from the preparations.

“I am aware.”

“It is called Lady Grey.  I do not know why.  It is a combination of tea leaves and the rind of several varieties of citrus fruit.”

Sarek assessed the scent as he waited for Soran to finish.  It was very like his grandfather to choose something with a bit more spice than is typical of vulcan cuisine.

“It may be more…assertive, than you are accustomed to.  It is a preference of your grandfather’s.”

Sarek looked up as Soran read his mind, also noting again the unprofessional way Soran chose to refer to Solkar.

The tea prepared, Soran sat back and waited for Sarek to take the first drink.  The new consul watched the steam rise, not dissipating until it had risen several centimeters in the air.  He took a sip.

To his surprise the tea was not too spicy or fragrant, but a pleasant combination of flavors.  He looked at Soran with raised brows.

“It is a unique blend, I have been told.  Your grandfather sampled many varieties of Earth tea and found this the most agreeable.”

“It is unique,” Sarek agreed, but set the small cup on its plate to focus solely on his new aide.  “But tell me, why do you repeatedly refer to Ambassador Solkar by his relation to me?”

Soran paused in the lifting of his own cup.  Sarek watched as he seemed to be contemplating something, and then finally met Sarek’s eyes again.

“To communicate to you the closeness of my association with Solkar.”

Sarek lifted an eyebrow.  “You wish me to understand that he considered you trustworthy.  A confidant.”

“Yes,” Soran nodded, lifting his cup again.

Sarek watched as the young man drank and looked back at him, waiting apparently for some revelation.  But the consul had no data on which to provide any.

“Why?” Sarek finally asked.  There was more to the situation than simple logic could explain.

Soran set his cup down.  “Your grandfather…Ambassador Solkar…told me about Suubar.”

Sarek tensed and he felt his heart rate increase.  He wondered when, if ever, emotions surrounding the past would cease to plague him.

“Exactly…how much did he tell you?”

Soran had the decency to look uncomfortable.  “Everything.”

Sarek looked down into his tea, the swirls of steam rising into his face.  The moisture was hot as it hit him but instantly cooled with the air, leaving his skin slightly chilled.  It was a welcome distraction.

“He said…it would be relevant in my capacity as your aide.  He also suggested, so that I may serve you to the best of my abilities,” he paused, and Sarek looked up, “that it would be advisable to hear from you whatever information you consider relevant to the situation.”

Sarek sipped the tea again and then slowly set the cup down.  He watched as the pillars of steam from his cup and Soran’s entwined, dancing their way toward the ceiling before evaporating.

“My grandfather...is wise.”

 

 


	4. Stirrings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A longer chapter this time. Sarek meets a lot of new people at the consulate, including a particular human family and a certain vulcan he never wants to see again. And he hears hints of a political conflict that he has no idea will change the course of his future.

 

 

A chime at the door announced someone’s arrival.  Sarek expected it would be Soran, as he had said he would return for him before what he had learned would be a private banquet that evening for specific dignitaries.  

He finished replacing his meditation lamp and turned down the lights before walking to the door.

When it opened though it was not his new aide, but Vanak’s, who stood before him.

“Arsa,” he greeted her.

“Consul Sarek.  I thought perhaps I could walk with you to the banquet hall, in case you forgot the way?”

“My aide will be arriving shortly to accompany me.”

“Oh.”

Sarek contemplated the young woman.  She betrayed no emotion, but her last word lacked the typical musical lilt of her voice.  Or perhaps he was misinterpreting her.

“You are welcome to walk with us.”

Her gaze rose to meet his, and at that moment Soran rounded the corner.

Sarek stepped past Arsa into the corridor and locked the door with his newly acquired consular authorization codes.

“Consul.  Are you ready for the banquet?” Soran asked.

So many meanings lie in that question, especially after the conversation Sarek had had with his new aide over tea earlier that day.  But none of the private ones were betrayed in the younger vulcan’s voice or expression.  

Sarek decided his grandfather had been wise to consider this young vulcan trustworthy.  He had clearly seen to his assignment to Sarek as well.  And while it was an extreme breach of manners and protocol to reveal the details of his personal life, Sarek was grateful for at least one individual he knew he could trust.  

“I am.”

Soran paused and looked between him and Arsa with a raised brow.

“Are you acquainted with Consul Vanak’s aide, Arsa?” Sarek asked Soran.

“Indeed.  She arrived at the consulate three months ago to begin her work in the ministry.  I oversaw her orientation.”

Again, Sarek was grateful for his aide’s ability to understand and communicate multiple meanings.

“She and her father accompanied my transport to Earth this morning.  She gave me a tour of the facilities when we arrived.”

“You have done my duty for me, Arsa,” Soran said, turning to the younger woman.

“It was my honor,” she replied, looking first to Soran and then nodding to Sarek.

“We must proceed to the banquet if we are to be on time,” Soran said.

Sarek nodded and began walking, ending up between the two younger vulcans as they passed through the narrower hallways of the living quarters.  They took a turbo lift down several levels and Sarek realized he did not in fact remember the way.  He would need to ask Soran to give him a second tour—this time of the most relevant locations—before he officially began his work.

“It will be my first banquet as a representative of the Ministry of Consular Affairs,” Arsa spoke into the silence of the turbo lift.

Both male vulcans raised their brows.

“It shall be the Consul’s as well,” Soran spoke up.

Sarek thought to himself that more kindness may be indicated where Vanak's daughter was concerned.  However, Arsa did not speak again, so the desired purpose had been accomplished.  He resolved in that moment to write to his grandfather about Soran, not only to thank him but to ask why he would give away such a perceptive and loyal aide.

“What was your assignment before you came to Earth?” Sarek asked.

Arsa turned toward him with eager eyes.  “I served with the Ministry of Information.  I developed a greater interest in alien cultures during my time with them.”

“And you felt the Federation would be a more ideal place to explore your interest?”

“Yes.”

The lift doors opened and the three vulcans exited, Sarek first, followed by Soran, and Arsa third.  She quickly fell into step beside the consul again and Soran hurried to catch up, despite protocol indicating that they both should walk behind.

“Then, why you did not join one of the space agencies?  They have far more diverse interactions with alien cultures,” Soran asked.

“I prefer a more predictable lifestyle,” she replied.

“Diplomacy is rarely predictable."

The trio rounded another corner and stopped just short of colliding with a small group of humans.

“Excuse me!” said the man leading them, “We didn’t see you coming.”

Sarek regarded the man, whose manner seemed a bit stiff, but honest.  He wore an unremarkable suit, his brown hair was styled in typical human form, and he wore a mustache.

“Consul,” Soran began, “May I introduce Roger Grayson, Earth Liaison to the Ministry of Consular Affairs.”

“Mr Grayson,” Sarek said, inclining his head and raising his hand in salute.

“Consul…?” the man replied, also raising his hand in the _ta’al_.

“Sarek,” he stated his name as he lowered his hand.  His eyes drifted to the other humans in the group.

“Consul if I may,” Soran said, “Formal introductions will be made at the banquet.”

“Of course,” Sarek said, “I look forward to making your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” Grayson replied.

The humans and vulcans regarded each other for another moment before Sarek lifted his hand again.

“Please, proceed,” he said, gesturing that the humans go first.

“Thank you Consul,” Grayson replied, but the man paused and stepped aside as the others continued ahead of him.

The reason soon became apparent as at the back of the group walked two women who made eye contact with Grayson and approached him.  His wife and daughter, Sarek presumed, based on the youthful appearance of one of them.

Soran and Arsa began walking around the three humans who now stood in the middle of the corridor, but stopped when they realized the consul wasn’t following.

Sarek had stopped mid-step as he became transfixed by a sight he hadn’t seen on any of the worlds he had visited.  The younger of the two women, the child, had long hair that fell below her waist.  The thick, cascading locks reminded him of the steam that rose from tea, and in fact her hair was the color of tea—a combination of brown and red he had never seen in vulcan hair, or in any other species.

Through some ability vulcans had yet to understand, the three humans suddenly realized they were being observed and looked up at him in question.  Grayson seemed even more stiff as he locked eyes with the new consul.

“Mr Grayson, is this your family?” Sarek asked, closing the few steps between them.

The human blinked several times and quickly regained his equanimity.  “Yes.  This is my wife, Diane, and my daughter, Amanda.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Consul,” the man’s wife said with a smile, raising her hand in salute.  She also wore a suit and had hair colored a slightly lighter brown than her husband's, styled into an efficient twist on the back of her head.

Sarek nodded to her and then turned his eyes to the daughter, who had adjusted her gaze to look up at him.  Her face was youthful, her expression curious yet solemn, and her eyes were the color of blood.  It complemented her unique hair, he thought.

She raised her hand in salute.  “Live long and prosper, Consul,” she said.  Her voice was soft and liquid, like gentle waves against the shore.

“Peace and long life, Miss Grayson,” he replied, raising his hand to match hers, before turning his eyes back to her father.  “Will your family be attending the banquet as well?”

“No, unfortunately,” his wife answered for him.  “My daughter has her studies and I have a deadline.”

“What is your function at the consulate, Madam?” he asked, hoping his remembrance of formal human female address was correct.

“Please, call me Diane,” she said pleasantly.  “I’m a translator.  I’m working on converting the Tellarite Bill of Rights to Vulcan.  It’s supposed to be finished before the end of the week, but at my current rate of progress it may not be finished before the celebration next month.”

Sarek raised his brow.  “An ambitious undertaking.”

“Yes,” she said with a weary sigh.

“Might I make a suggestion?”

The woman blinked in surprise.  “Yes?”

“Translate it into a more familiar language—your native language, perhaps—before attempting to translate it into Vulcan.  After all, our own universal translators still have difficulty with many Tellarite adjectives.”

The woman’s face brightened further.  “That’s a brilliant idea!  Thank you, Consul.”

Sarek noted the daughter’s unchanged countenance before bowing his head to her mother.  “To use a human expression, ‘good luck.’”

The woman smiled broadly, and Sarek decided his choice of phrase had been appropriate.

“I bid you both a good evening,” he said, glancing at the daughter once more before joining the two aides.

He walked between them again and was aware of Arsa looking up at him.  He did not divert his gaze from the hallway in front of him.

As they turned the corner the voices of the humans behind them dissipated, and a moment later they had arrived at the banquet hall.

Sarek halted outside the door, making certain his breathing was even.  He had not seen Suubar for two years and had not intended to see him ever again after they parted ways on Vulcan.  It was ‘bad luck,’ he thought, his mind supplying the human expression, that their respective duties had thrust them together again.

“Consul?” Arsa asked, noting his hesitation.

“Proceed,” he said, and Soran pulled the old-style door open by a large metal handle.  Behind them, Roger Grayson had caught up, apparently finished saying farewell to his family.

“After you, Consul,” the human said.

Sarek took a deep breath and followed Arsa and his own aide into the hall.

Not surprisingly, many pairs of Vulcan eyes turned toward them as they entered.  Sarek noted however that few of the humans turned.

Most of the attendees were standing, enjoying before-dinner drinks and _hors d’oeuvres_  as was the human custom.  

“Excuse me, Consul,” Grayson said, stepping around him and heading toward a group of humans who were smiling and waving toward him.

Soran stood respectfully behind Sarek’s shoulder as he scanned the room.  Arsa still stood beside him.

Not surprisingly, Vanak was the first to approach him.

“Sarek, how did you find your new suite?”

“Well.”

“It is much larger than the other consular rooms of course, but we managed to convince the humans it was illogical to move everyone for the sake of vanity.”

Sarek’s brow rose.  “Indeed.”

“Shall I introduce you to Ambassador Tos?”

“Yes.  I have been looking forward to meeting him.”

Sarek fell into step next to Vanak, with Soran behind him.

“Arsa, attend me,” Vanak said without a backward glance.

Sarek didn’t need to turn around to know the young aide had finally fallen into place behind Vanak’s shoulder, alongside Soran.

The human ritual of ‘small talk’ continued for several minutes, with Sarek respectfully sampling three Earth appetizers before telling Soran he would like to take his seat and wait for the meal.  The third appetizer had not agreed with him.  He suspected it may have contained animal products, and in fact was shocked that such cuisine would be offered in the consulate at all.  He resolved to ask Soran about a review of operations as soon as he had the chance.

He was relieved to find that his assigned seat was directly across from Vanak.  Ambassador Tos was of course at the head of the table and Suubar to his right, which put him on the same side of the table as Sarek.  Making eye contact with him would be difficult.

It was a surprisingly segregated arrangement, which Sarek reasoned was to accommodate the vulcan preference for having aides sit next to those whom they attend.  Nevertheless, he found that the human Roger Grayson was seated on his left.  He considered it an opportunity  to learn more about that man and his interesting display of emotions.

The other guests began approaching the table when Tos did, standing behind their chairs.  Sarek and Soran rose as well, and the entire group turned their eyes toward the great doors which were being held open again.  Sarek’s brow rose in surprise as he saw who was entering.

Ambassador Jonathan Archer, twice of Andoria, former Federation President, former Head of Starfleet Command.  His list of accolades could be listed for at least thirty minutes, but it wasn’t necessary.  Everyone at the banquet was aware that without this human the United Federation of Planets would not exist, and Vulcan would very likely be in the midst of civil war.

His hair was snow-white and he walked with a cane.  But his back was straight and his head held high, and on his face a smile to which Sarek had grown accustomed during their shared assignments on Andoria.  He was accompanied by three andorians, one of whom was a familiar female, about twenty years his senior.

“Ambassador Archer,” Tos greeted as the human took his place at the other end of the table.  “We bid you welcome.  Please, allow me to introduce my guests.”

Archer sat slowly and nodded his assent to Tos, who began the introductions on his right and went back and forth across the table.  He introduced Suubar, Vulcan Ambassador to Earth, and his two aides, Toven and Soleck.  Tos introduced his own aides followed by Vanak and Arsa, two other vulcans who Sarek learned were part of the Interspecies Cultural Exchange, and then Soran.  Each person took their seat after being introduced.

“And Consul Sarek you already know from your joint endeavors on Andoria,” the aged vulcan continued methodically.  Sarek nodded first to Archer, who smiled broadly at him.  As he nodded to Tos and took his seat, he caught Suubar’s eye for the first time since arriving.  As he expected, the ambassador’s gaze betrayed the emotions he felt where Sarek was concerned.  Sarek quickly turned his gaze back to Archer and listened to the rest of the introductions.

After Roger Grayson was introduced, two other humans working in the alien immigration department were named, followed by an officer of human and vulcan relations, Starfleet Admiral Russo, and Earth Ambassador Nichols.  It was then that Sarek realized there was an empty chair at the table.

“Thank you, Ambassador,” Archer said pleasantly.  “And allow me to present my aides, Thras and Jolin, and my goddaughter, Talla,” he finished, putting his arm around the woman.

“From all of Vulcan, welcome,” Tos said.

“We’re on Earth, Ambassador.  But I appreciate the welcome.  It’s good to be home.”

As Archer sat, so did the three andorians.  But Tos remained standing.

“We expected Ambassador Shran to be joining us as well,” the vulcan said.

Archer’s smile weakened at the mention of the renowned andorian.  

“The ambassador’s health has declined in the last several weeks.  His physicians determined it was best that he abstain from travel until he is well again.”

“Please offer him our sincere wish that his return to good health will be swift.”

“I will.  And Talla has come in his place, until he can join us.”

Tos finally took his seat, and Ambassador Nichols, a very large man rose at the same time.  “Gentleman and ladies,” he said in a booming voice with a smile to match, “let’s eat!”

Sarek was relieved that nothing else on the menu seemed to contain animal products, and that vulcan brandy was one of the offered beverages for the meal.  He found himself listening to the conversations rather than taking part in them, despite Arsa’s numerous attempts to gain his attention.  And he was particularly interested in Roger Grayson and the other immigration officers’ work and found himself drawn to the human (and andorian) side of the table far more than he was to his own people.

“There’s been a six percent decrease in vulcan immigration ever since the High Command was reinstated,” Grayson said, answering a question from Archer.

“Ambassador Tos,” Archer said, and the vulcan turned toward him.  “Has vulcan emigration decreased overall?”

“Yes,” Tos replied, “it has.”

“Do you think that reflects increased trust in the new High Command?” Archer continued.

“Indeed.  Minister T’Pau has made remarkable strides in reunifying our people.”

“Consul Sarek,” a familiar voice froze Sarek’s fork halfway to his lips.  He looked up to meet Suubar’s eyes.  They were intent and calculating.  “Describe the immigration statistics of Andoria.”

Sarek glanced at Archer as he replaced his fork on his dish.  Thankfully, the human had no idea of the history between himself and the other vulcan ambassador.  He turned his eyes back toward the older vulcan.

“As you know, Andoria is in the midst of an ecological crisis.  Many human and rigelian scientists and engineers have come to the planet with the intent to help, but far more andorians are leaving than are staying.”

“A choice motivated by fear,” Suubar said, narrowing his gaze at Sarek.

“A choice motivated by practicality,” Archer said calmly, and Sarek waited until Suubar turned before adjusting his own gaze.  “There’s no logic in staying on a planet that may not be able to support life in the next fifty years.”

“Will it be that soon?” Vanak asked.

The woman, Talla, spoke up.  “My father has told me that temperatures have never been this warm in his lifetime, and our scientists predict they will only increase.  Our major cities will be impossible to maintain before the turn of the century.”

A silence ensued at the startling revelation, which was not news to Sarek.  He saw the opportunity to bring the conversation back to peace and took it.

“Ambassadors Soval and Solkar will do all that they can to help your people,” he said, addressing Talla.  He had met the pale-skinned andorian woman before, as she often accompanied her father and godfather.  Sarek expected she would be Andoria’s ambassador to Vulcan someday.

“We’re grateful for your help,” she said, nodding.

Sarek resumed his meal and kept his gaze pointedly away from Suubar.  Thankfully, Archer had more he wanted to discuss.

“So someone tell me about this new space program we’re launching,” the aged ambassador said.

“ _Re_ -launching,” Russo corrected.  “The United Earth Space Probe Agency,” the admiral said with pride.

“In my opinion,” Nichols said, leaning toward Archer conspiratorially, but not lowering his voice, “it’s just humanity’s way of trying to put our foot back in space, since Starfleet is officially a Federation organization now.”

The man finished with an enormous laugh which caused Sarek to raise his brow.  Archer joined him a moment later with far more decorum.

“I’m not surprised.  From what I’ve heard, they’re going back to their roots.  All unmanned probes?”

“Yes,” Nichols said, “but they’re going to try to get a presence on Starfleet ships again.  You’d better watch out for us, Admiral,” he said, nudging Russo with his elbow.

Russo huffed slightly, but seemed to acquiesce to the man’s humor.  “Starfleet is ninety-nine percent human, after all.  I suppose it makes sense.”

“I don’t see why Starfleet had to become the Federation’s military branch at all,” Grayson said, pushing his empty plate away from him and folding his hands on the edge of the table.  “We shouldn’t be out there looking for trouble.”

“Are you forgetting the Romulan War, young man?” Archer asked, leaning back in his chair with a smile.

“Or the Klingons,” Tos added from his end of the table.

“What I mean, is…” Grayson continued, “that the vulcans kept their space agency, Andoria still has the Imperial Guard, Tellar still has its military.  It seems a bit unbalanced.”

Sarek took note of the varying human responses as the conversation continued.  They were chaotic and unpredictable, just as he had described to his grandfather on Vulcan.  The andorians, on the other hand, were quiet and appeared to calculate every response that was given.  Except of course for Talla, who had grown up with an appreciation for other cultures.

The vulcans of course only contributed to the conversation when they felt they had something relevant to add, which left most of the talking to the humans.  

Archer was the human Sarek knew best and thus the one he had used for years as his example of normative human behavior.  He was generally good-humored, logical, but prone to take risks before weighing all options.  And he was the most renowned human in the Federation and on Vulcan.

These other humans however—the laughing ambassador, the huffy admiral, and the argumentative immigration officer—none resembled Archer in their manners.

Humans were a chaotic species indeed.

“Gentleman, miss Arsa,” Archer said, slowly rising with the andorians.  “It has been a pleasure, but Talla and I must retire for the evening.  I look forward to seeing you again at the re-launch of…what was that acronym again?”

“UESPA,” the admiral reported, while the Earth ambassador chuckled.

“It sounds like the name of a cooking implement,” Nichols continued to laugh.

“Well, I look forward to its…implementation,” Archer said.

Nichols laughed even louder and most of the humans joined him.  Sarek had spent so much time with Archer on Andoria he could have given that line himself.  But of course, vulcans did not employ humor.

“Sarek,” Archer said, drawing his attention.  “It was good to see you again.  Maybe we could have lunch together sometime this week before I go to New York?”

“I shall have my aide make the arrangements,” Sarek responded.

“Great.  Good night, everyone,” Archer said, turning to go.

Talla and the other andorians followed closely after him, and the rest of the group were silent until their acclaimed guest had left and the heavy doors fallen closed.

“Wow,” one of the immigration officers said.

“You’re telling me,” the relations officer said.  “What an inspiration!”

“And not a bad looking lady with him, either, except for the antennae of course,” the third officer said.

Vanak cleared his throat loudly and the humans suddenly remembered the silent vulcans who were also their dinner companions.  They looked appropriately contrite and resumed their meals.

Sarek looked at Vanak, who was looking at him with interest.

“I was not aware you worked so closely with Ambassador Archer on Andoria,” the other consul said.

“He claimed to enjoy the presence of vulcans.”

“Why would a human ‘enjoy’ the presence of vulcans?” Suubar questioned.

Tos eyed the other ambassador curiously, while Sarek barely glanced at him before responding.  

“He considers Ambassador Soval and Captain T’Pol to be two of his closest friends.  He has worked closely with them for almost eighty years.  Especially during the formative years of the Federation.”

“You’ve done your homework, young man,” Admiral Russo piped up, showing his first smile of the evening.

“Earth-Vulcan relations is one of the first orientations in the Ministry of Consular Affairs,” Sarek replied simply.

“As they are at Starfleet Academy,” the admiral replied.

“It might be interesting to compare the two curricula,” Nichols said, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Indeed,” Suubar said, “and as Starfleet is a Federation organization now, it would be wise to ensure a neutral opinion of events is conveyed by the instructors.”

For the first time that evening, Nichols frowned.

“Perhaps,” Suubar continued, “you could take charge of such a review, Consul,” he addressed Sarek, whose brow rose marginally, “if you have the time between your…other duties.”

“Perhaps,” Sarek said, setting his spoon down and rising.  “If you will excuse me, I shall take my leave.  My journey has tired me.”

He acknowledged each member at the table, making a particular effort with Grayson, though he wasn’t sure why.  And moments later he was through the heavy wooden double doors with Soran close behind him.

Having memorized the way, he strode quickly through the corridors and to the turbo lift, eager to meditate again.  Once they were inside, the lift rose steadily to the living quarters near the top floor of the consulate.  The steady motion was calming, and Sarek felt for the first time in the last couple of hours that he could breathe normally again.  He closed his eyes and pictured his meditation lamp, the flame steady and strong.

“If it is not too bold…” he heard a quiet voice next to him, and opened his eyes to see Soran watching him carefully.  He nodded his assent.  “…you betrayed nothing.”

Sarek assessed his new aide for any sign of deception, but saw none.  He finally nodded.

“Arrange for a private meeting with Ambassador Archer in my suite at his convenience, if he agrees.”

Soran’s brow rose.  “As you wish, Consul.”

Sarek glanced sideways at his aide, wondering how much he should say about his relationship with Archer.  Considering that Soran already knew every intimate detail of his life on Vulcan, thanks to Solkar…

“I plan to discuss the situation with Suubar with Archer and ask his advice on how to proceed.”

Soran’s brow rose even higher.

Sarek closed his eyes again.  “Humans…often have unique insights for seemingly impossible problems.”

Soran folded his hands low before him.  “Indeed.”

 

 


	5. A New Hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: One more little shorty chapter. After this one, things really get moving. Sarek goes out on a limb and asks someone for help, and we finally learn a little bit about his history with Ambassador Suubar.
> 
> Important to note: When I write, I just write and publish. I don't stop to edit or check my facts. So sometimes I end up going back and changing things in previous chapters as I'm adding new ones so that everything makes sense together. I've already done that in this fic. So if you've been reading this from the day I started it, I switched a few of the vulcans' affiliations, including Sarek's. I make a point of mentioning it specifically in this chapter in case there's any confusion. If you've just read through for the first time, you shouldn't notice anything contradictory.

 

 

“More tea?” Sarek asked, lifting the small pot.

“Thank you.  How did you know vulcan spice was my favorite?” Archer asked with a grin.

“Minister T’Pau told me.”

Archer paused with the cup halfway between the tray and his lips and stared at Sarek.  “You mean to tell me you sent a message all the way to Vulcan to ask what kind of tea I like?”

“No.  She told me when I was first assigned to Andoria.  And your friend, Captain T’Pol told me as well when her ship ferried me there.  They both seemed…concerned that I might serve you something else.”

Archer laughed.  “I never have developed a taste for _plomeek_.  Now what was it you wanted to talk with me about?  Your aide made it sound urgent.  I’m sorry I couldn’t get away earlier.”

Sarek watched the steam rise from his tea and wondered how to begin.  He was somewhat concerned that, unlike Soran, Archer might tell others of his personal problems.  Of course T’Pau already knew everything, but it was an extremely...delicate matter.

The dark, reddish-brown tea suddenly brought to mind the young human girl he had met on his first night in the consulate, whose hair was the same color.  She had not spoken to him like any of the other humans, he realized.  He wondered if that was her typical behavior regarding aliens.

“Sarek?” Archer said, drawing him out of his thoughts.

“How is…Ambassador Shran?” Sarek asked, sipping his tea.

Archer gave him a deprecating look, but humored him.  “He’s just getting old, like I am.  And he won’t leave Andoria until…how did he put it…’until they find a way to save her, or he’ll die with her.’  I tried to get him to come back to Earth with me but…he loves his planet.”

“Perhaps if you had suggested a permanent residence in the antarctic,” Sarek said.

Archer chuckled and sipped his tea again.  “Perhaps.”  He gazed wistfully out the window for a moment, and Sarek wondered if the man was wishing as much as he was that they were both back on Andoria.  But of course they each had very different reasons for wanting to go.

“Now,” Archer said, staring at him intently.  “Stop beating around the bush.  What’s going on?”

Sarek took a deep breath.  “There is…someone here, at the consulate…who hates me.”

Archer’s eyes widened.  “Hates you?  Who is it?  I can have them go through sensitivity training if you think that would—”

“It is not a human,” Sarek interrupted, shaking his head.

Archer’s eyes narrowed as he gazed on Sarek in confusion.

“It is Ambassador Suubar.”

“A vulcan?  Hates you?  Are you sure?  You’ve only known him for—”

“I have known Suubar since my youth.  And yes, he hates me.  He blames me for the death of his only daughter.”

Archer looked at Sarek intently, and the vulcan knew what question would be next.

“ _Are_  you responsible?”

Sarek took a deep breath and released it twice as slowly, bowing his head so that the steam from the tea hit his face.  _Kaiidth_.

“Yes.”

He looked up at Archer, who had turned to face the window with a mixture of sadness and an expression of duty in his eyes.  Sarek spoke up before Archer could, to make the situation easier.

“You are wondering if you need to report this to vulcan authorities.  You do not.  Minister T’Pau is already aware of the circumstances.  Which is why I do not understand why she reassigned me as consul to Suubar.  I am not certain how I can follow the directives of a vulcan who bears such negative emotions toward me.”

Archer looked at him with his characteristic hopeful smile and finished his tea.  “Well.  If it were me, I would just…follow orders.  Unless he asks you to do something immoral, or illegal.  Do you think he’ll do that?”

“No,” Sarek had to admit.  It would be illogical.  But, so was hatred.

Archer must have seen the lack of resolution in his face, for his next words came as a surprise.

“I’ll tell you what.  I’m doing a lecture tour at several schools on my way to New York.  How about you come with me?  We can talk about the history of First Contact together.  You were practically an eyewitness.”

“My father had not yet married my mother at the time of First Contact,” Sarek said.

“Human kids don’t care.  You’re related to Solkar, that makes you a celebrity.”

Sarek sighed through his nose and sipped his tea.

“Come on, I start tomorrow, here at the compound school, two lectures.  Actually…these will all be vulcan children, won’t they…” Archer contemplated.

“Naturally.”

“Come to think of it, it would be really helpful to have you along.”

“Have you forgotten that I am no longer a Federation ambassador?  I now answer to the High Command.”

“Don't worry.  I’ll make all the arrangements.  You’ll have at least a month of not having to even think about Ambassador Suubar if you come along.  And since Talla is here we could even expand the lecture into the first contacts between all of our worlds.  What do you say?”

Sarek didn’t want to admit it, because it would be admitting to emotion.  But a month away from Suubar was extremely desirable.

“Very well,” he finally said.

“Excellent!”  Archer said. “I’ll see you at the school tomorrow at oh-nine forty-five hours.”

Sarek sipped his tea and sighed in relief.

 

 


	6. Contradictions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sarek gets a respite with old friends, but it is short-lived as the buried seeds of dissent in the Federation begin to grow.

 

 

“Thank you!  Goodbye!” Archer said, waving through the doorway one final time.  When it was closed, he leaned heavily against the wall and let his breath out in a large huff.

Sarek raised an eyebrow at him, watching as the man shook his head in disbelief until finally he looked up to meet the younger vulcan’s eyes.  

“Are vulcan children always so inquisitive?”

“Yes,” Sarek said, “although the questions they ask are not typically so…personal.”

Archer glared at him.

“You have had a…unique career, Ambassador, as human relations with vulcans go.”

“Why would… _children_ …ask me about my relationship with my former first officer?”

Sarek folded his hands behind his back.  “I believe the question reflects more on their opinion of her, than their opinion of you.”

Archer glanced up at Sarek in surprise before frowning sadly.

“Their curriculum on recent history is very thorough,” Talla chimed in.

Sarek nodded to the Andorian woman.  “Indeed.  It is tailored to suit the children of those working in the consulate.  It is only logical that it contain relevant Earth history as well.”

“I think I’m going to have a talk with Admiral Russo about what aspects of Starfleet missions should be made public…” Archer said, running a hand through his thin, white hair.

“How much time do we have before the second lecture?” Talla asked.

“Only five minutes.  I wanted to get it over with so we can get another school done today after lunch.”

Talla smiled.  “As Father would say, 'you should take it easy at your age, Pink-skin.'”

Archer looked at her reproachfully.  “Talla.”

“Don’t you agree, Sarek?” she grinned conspiratorially.

“I believe she has captured her father’s turn of phrase quite accurately,” Sarek replied.

Archer turned his gaze to the vulcan.  “Since you both know him so well maybe you can convince him to relocate to Earth.”

The elderly ambassador stretched and leaned on his cane a moment before starting down the carpeted hall, flanked by the consul and his goddaughter.  His two andorian aides followed closely behind.

“I believe Ambassador Shran made his intentions quite clear,” Sarek said.

“Father’s message to me this morning included a suggestion that I convince _you_  to come back to Andoria.”

Archer grimaced.  “Thanks, but my doctor won’t let me.  I guess mine and Shran’s _ushaan_  dueling days are over.”

“They’ve been over for years, Jonathan,” Talla said, putting her arm through his.

“I can dream,” he said, smiling up at her, having regained his good humor.

The group arrived at the next classroom where the door already stood open, the vulcan teacher waiting for them.

“Welcome, Ambassador,” the woman greeted.  “I am the teacher of this division.”

“Nice to meet you,” he said, and then stepped closer to her, lowering his voice.  “Um.  How old are these kids?”

“Students in this division vary in age between fourteen and nineteen years.”

Archer carefully stepped back using his cane for support, and murmured to Sarek.  “I keep forgetting your schools are different.”

Sarek merely lifted an eyebrow in reply.

“The students were prepared for your arrival, though we did not expect your guests,” the teacher continued.

“We decided to expand the lecture to include all of our first contacts,” Archer replied as he stepped past her into the room of far more mature-looking vulcans, Sarek noted, than the group of primary school children to whom they had first spoken.

“Good afternoon everyone!” Archer began jovially.  It was clear to Sarek that lecturing students was something the human had long been accustomed to in the course of his career.  “My name is Jonathan Archer, and I would like to introduce Representative Talla of the Andorian Empire, and Federation Ambassador—oh excuse me, Consul Sarek of the Vulcan High Command.  Recently reassigned.”

Sarek watched as the vulcan youths appraised him along with the aged human and the andorian woman, and then glanced at the two andorian aides who waited by the door.  

“We have come today to share the history of the first contact between humans and vulcans, between vulcans and andorians, and between andorians and humans.  We hope to give you greater insights than what you’ve already read in your history books,” Archer continued with ease.

Sarek listened attentively to the repeat of the ambassador's speech, noting the consistency Archer maintained with the one he gave earlier.  He occupied himself making mental notes to improve his portion of the presentation, until he saw _her_.  The reddish-brown hair was unmistakeable, and he narrowed his brow in curiosity at the lone human in the class of vulcans.

But looking between her and the other students he realized that the only thing out of place about her was her appearance.  Her aesthetic was that of a human, but her behavior in the group was decidedly vulcan.  She sat like the others, maintained focus like any vulcan, and her countenance was even and unemotional.  Truly, it was only her physical appearance that betrayed her species.  And perhaps a slightly heightened expression of curiosity.

Sarek thought it possible she may have been raised in the consulate.

“…and Consul Sarek is the grandson of Ambassador Solkar.  He will now share from personal recollection not only the historic account of Vulcan’s first contact with humans, but also the first contact with andorians as his grandfather related it to him when he was about your age.”

The human female’s eyes turned then and locked onto his.  He blinked back at her and watched as she lifted her hand to brush several strands of hair from her face.  Then, she narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“Sarek?” Archer said, drawing the consul out of his preoccupation.

Sarek cleared his throat.  “The first contacts between vulcans and andorians and between vulcans and humans can be compared by the longstanding vulcan imperialistic philosophy combined with the illogic of xenophobia, only recently abandoned within the past seventy-two years,” he began.  “As you must know, the andorians were the first alien species that Vulcan made contact with.  Our species's similarly xenophobic attitudes led to disaster,” he said, glancing at Talla, “which led to the growth of our imperialism by the time we chose to contact humans over one hundred years later.”

Sarek continued, watching the now wide and interested eyes of the human girl as he related the basics of andorian and vulcan cultural history.  He paused as he had in the previous class to allow Talla to share her people’s version of the complicated first few years, and then realized he had been watching the human the entire time he had spoken.  Her curious blood-colored eyes were now focused on Talla, and he forced his gaze to turn as well.

“…Unfortunately, andorians are not yet as enlightened as vulcans,” she was saying, “but with the Federation we are hopeful for the same peace your people have finally achieved.”

Sarek listened to the tale, so similar to his own history.  If only both cultures had looked past their fears, it could have saved them from over two centuries of conflict.  He hoped their new opportunity would not be wasted, and decided it was well that he had this chance to speak to vulcan youths.  He thought that later he might indulge in the human practice of giving thanks, and thank the ambassador for sharing the opportunity with him.

Talla had finished her part and turned back to him.  This time he was ready.  “Our xenophobia led us to deal falsely with humans when we landed on Earth one hundred sixty-three years ago.  All of our claims to help them technologically were self-motivated, and carefully calculated to keep them from joining the galactic community.  For as you must have been taught by now, we were afraid of the vast leaps they had made culturally and technologically in a fraction of the time our own people had done.  What could such a culturally adaptable race accomplish alone in the next one hundred years?  And what would their attitudes be toward our people?”

Sarek had deliberately looked around the room this time at the other vulcan students who were all attention.  But his eyes settled on the human again as he relayed a personal story he had not shared earlier in the class of younger students.

“Ambassador Solkar, my grandfather, once told me of his final meeting with Zefram Cochrane.  He was traveling on a transport vessel to the Earth colony in the Alpha Centauri system, passing the Orion system, when his vessel detected another about to suffer a warp core breach.  They were about to change course to avoid the explosion when scans indicated that the breach had been avoided through seemingly unknown causes.  They changed course and intercepted a small, warp four capable ship with only one occupant.  Cochrane.

“The human willingly boarded the transport and shared with its crew how he had avoided the breach.   Solkar and the others found Cochrane’s methods innovative, but the man seemed indifferent.  Before leaving he spoke privately with my grandfather, telling him he regretted not getting to know his people.  He wished him luck and returned to his ship.  It was the last time anyone saw Zefram Cochrane.”

“I’ve never heard that story,” Archer interrupted, looking at him in awe.

“It is the first time I have told it,” Sarek replied.

Archer smiled warmly and turned back to the students.  “Now you have enough background to be prepared for the first contact between humans and andorians, which of course involves your people…”

Sarek and Talla alternatively shared portions of the much more recent tale as Archer relayed the tragedy at P’Jem, which had ironically sowed the first seeds of cooperation between the three species.  They each gave their parting words to the group of students, with Sarek speaking last.

“Our people are fortunate to have finally united under the philosophy of IDIC.  And with the Federation operating on its principles as well, we can look forward to peaceful relations and the sharing of goals and ideas with countless species in the galaxy.  What we share will continue to better the vulcan people.”

“We’ll take your questions now—“ Archer began, but was cut off by the teacher.

“I’m afraid there will be no time for questions.  It is the lunch hour.”

“Oh.  I guess we went a bit overboard,” Archer said cheerfully to his companions.  He turned back to the students.  “We’ll take our lunch in the compound today if you have any pressing questions.  Goodbye now!”

The trio departed the school section of the compound and headed for the turbolift which would lead down to the main floor and the restaurants.  

“Jonathan,” Talla said when they entered the privacy of the lift, “you didn’t say very much about the Terra Prime movement.”

Sarek watched as Archer’s head bowed and for the first time, he looked his age.  

“I said what was necessary.”

When the group reached the restaurants, Archer directed them to the one place in the consulate that served Earth cuisine.  Sarek at first thought he may have to excuse himself from the group, but found that the place also served foods without animal products.  He also noticed that while the vulcans were only dining at the places that served their native foods, the humans and other alien guests at the consulate were spread between all of the establishments.

“Do you know how long it’s been since I had a cheeseburger?” Archer said when the group’s meals arrived.

“You say that every time we come back here,” Talla remarked with a smile that Sarek noticed didn’t seem entirely sincere.

A few minutes of silence passed as the group began their meal.  But before long Talla set her fork down at the edge of her plate.

“Why didn’t you tell them more about Terra Prime?” she said.

Sarek watched as Archer’s eyes hardened beneath his white brows.  He methodically chewed his food before responding.

“You know why.”

“But they needed to hear it.  Didn’t you see their faces?”

“Please, explain,” Sarek said, turning his attention to Talla’s worried face.

She looked at him suddenly with apprehension, and Sarek raised a single eyebrow in question.  He waited as she appeared to take great care with her words.

“Even though everything we said was true…leaving out the details of Terra Prime painted humans as the most enlightened species, while vulcans and andorians looked more foolish.  Those students seemed…angry.”

Archer shook his head.  “I didn’t have that impression.  Did you?” he continued, turning to Sarek.

Sarek raised both brows.  “To imply that they displayed or experienced emotion is the greater insult.”

Talla raised her hands in a gesture of innocence.  “I am only suggesting…that as we continue the lecture tour, perhaps we should refine it a bit.  We can approach it more positively with your philosophy as the core,” she said, looking to Sarek, “and mention in equal measure the failures of each of our species to not embrace diversity and their consequences.”

“I thought that’s what we just did,” Archer said, looking irritated.

“But we need to—“

“Excuse me,” a female voice from behind Sarek interrupted.

He turned around to see the human girl with the long hair who had been in the vulcan classroom, looking so out of place and yet as if she belonged.  He recalled his first meeting with her on the night of the banquet and noted that the stolid composure she had displayed then was still in place now.

“The ambassador is having lunch,” one of the andorian aides immediately spoke up.

“No, it’s all right,” Archer said calmly, putting on a smile.  “I saw you in the class we left awhile ago.  I was pretty surprised to see a human.”

The young woman's eyes seemed to smile, though the rest of her expression remained unchanged.  It was the first real expression of emotion Sarek had seen from her since their brief introduction.

“I’ve spent most of my life in the compound.  My parents both work here,” she explained.

“Miss…?” Archer prompted.

“Amanda Grayson,” she provided.

“What can we do for you, Miss Grayson?” Archer asked.

“I wanted to thank you all for sharing your experiences with us.  I hadn’t heard the history of vulcan and andorian relations in that much detail.  And I have never heard the story of First Contact that way before,” she said, looking at Sarek as she finished.

Archer smiled knowingly.  “Sometimes the textbooks focus too much on facts instead of what’s really important."

Sarek’s eyes remained focused on those of the young human.  Her expression of gratitude was easily readable, even though he had had limited experience with humans.

“Whenever interspecies relations are discussed,” she continued, “my peers always focus on the failings of other cultures.  No one…or I should say…no vulcan, has ever talked about vulcan xenophobia before.”

Sarek blinked.  _Hadn’t they?_

“Do you know of a place I can study where…the instructors are as unbiased as you?”

Sarek blinked again.

“Starfleet Academy,” Archer said proudly.  “The only official school of the Federation.”

The young woman continued talking but Sarek’s attention had been arrested by her claims of bias in the compound school.  After everything his planet had been through in the last two hundred years, could they really still be instructing their children in the belief of vulcan superiority?  Or were they merely omitting Vulcan’s flaws in their interactions with other cultures from the curriculum?  Without the opportunity to learn from the past, it would surely repeat itself.

He remembered then Suubar’s suggestion at the banquet three days prior that he look into the teaching of Earth-Vulcan relations at Starfleet Academy to ensure the facts were presented appropriately.  Despite the personal conflict between them, Suubar apparently already had the same misgivings about current education trends that he was now developing.  Perhaps the suggestion that he look into the matter had been sincere.

Sarek realized the young woman was starting to back away from the table, and he abruptly returned his attention to her.

“Thank you again.  I’ll never forget this day,” she said in farewell as she turned.

“Thank _you_  for stopping by.  Have a good day!” Archer said, resuming his meal.

Sarek watched as her long, wavy hair swung from side to side as she walked away into the atrium, soon blending in with the rest of the lunch crowd.

“To use a human phrase,” he heard Talla say behind him, “I told you so.”

Sarek didn’t wait to hear Archer’s reply as he quickly rose from his place at the table and hurried after the young human woman.  Her uniquely colored hair made her easy to find.

“Miss Grayson,” he said when he felt he was close enough for her to hear.  She whirled around in seeming surprise and turned her blood-green eyes up toward his.  Her openness and solemnity again arrested his attention and he momentarily forgot why he had approached her.

“Yes…Consul?” she said uncertainly.

Sarek slowly folded his hands in front of him.  “Do you truly feel there is bias in favor of vulcans in the instruction you have received at the compound?”

She lowered her gaze then, looking almost sad.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You have not,” he said, and paused as he chose his next words.  “I wish to determine the accuracy of your assessment.”

“I’m sorry,” she repeated.  “I wasn’t thinking.  My father…”

Sarek watched her expression change to apparent thoughtfulness as she chose her words.

“My father may have influenced my opinion.  He thinks…that the instructors could do more to meet my educational needs.  But I understand that I am the only human who attends school here and the curricula are designed for vulcans.”

Sarek considered this as he recalled his impression of Roger Grayson at the dinner several days prior.  It could simply be a lack of understanding of vulcan ways on their part.  Or their judgment of the situation could be entirely correct.  It would require further investigation.

“Miss Grayson.  Were I still a Federation ambassador it would not be my duty to question the curricular choices of the compound’s school.  It is on Vulcan soil and under the jurisdiction of the High Command.”

She furrowed her brow slightly as she looked back up at him in seeming confusion.

“However, I have been recently reassigned,” he continued, “and it is the duty of every vulcan to see that our people do not repeat the mistakes of the recent past as they inform the young minds who will be our future leaders.  May I discuss this matter with you further?”

Her expression cleared, and after a moment she nodded.

“I shall have my aide contact you to make an appointment,” he said.

“All right,” she said, nodding again.

Sarek looked once more at her large, expressive eyes before closing his own and inclining his head respectfully.  She returned the gesture, and then he turned to go back to his table.

As he went he compared her words and manner to those of her father.  She reminded him of the best vulcans he had known in his youth—inquisitive, open-minded, and principled.  But the brief observations he had made of her father suggested a more closed-minded philosophy.  He wondered, due to the contradiction, if his understanding of the species was flawed in some way.  That idea too would require reflection.  He considered that it may be best if he requested a meeting with all three Graysons as he pursued this issue.

When he returned to the table he found Archer and Talla staring at him with wide, questioning eyes.

“Ambassador,” he began as he retook his seat.

“Sarek, I’ve told you a dozen times to call me Jonathan.”

Sarek ignored him.  “Talla is correct.  We must refine the lecture.”

Archer set his elbows on the table and leaned forward.  “Why do you suddenly agree with her?”

“That human indicated to me that the philosophies being taught at the compound are unchanged from what I was taught in my youth.”

Archer furrowed his brow.  “Meaning…?”

“That vulcans are the supreme species and aliens are inferior.”

Talla gaped at him.  “That's what you were taught?”

Sarek turned to face her.  “It was always couched in the idea that our goal—our higher purpose—was to help other species rise to our level of enlightenment.  But essentially, the implication was that we were superior.”

“They’re damned good at making speeches.  Had us fooled for nearly a hundred years,” Archer said.

Talla’s gaze fell and became sad.  “My father told me that he was always taught that andorians were the superior race, and that others couldn’t be trusted.”  She looked up at Archer and smiled.  “I don’t know what would have happened to our people if you hadn’t come along.”

Archer shrugged off the compliment.  “You’re giving me too much credit.”

Sarek fidgeted with the cuffs of his sleeve as the two spoke, feeling an inexplicably urgent need to pursue the subject further.  But before he could speak again he noticed his aide approaching the table.  He straightened in his seat and turned to face the younger vulcan.

“Ambassador,” Soran greeted Archer with a bow, before turning to Sarek.  “Consul.  I have…news.”

Sarek lifted an eyebrow.  “Go on.”

Soran held out a PADD for him to take.  “Ambassador Suubar has given you an assignment which he says requires your immediate attention, and your presence here in the consulate.”

Sarek took the device and activated it, reading through the orders.  

“But I just cleared him for a lecture tour across North America,” Archer said in confusion.

Soran turned to the aged human with another bow.  “Ambassador Suubar insists that this assignment is more important.”

“What is it?” Archer asked, turning back to Sarek.

“Preparations for the arrival of the tellarite delegation in six days.”

“That doesn’t seem like something for a consul.  Can’t your aide…?”

“Soran,” the young vulcan provided.

“Sorry.  Soran, do it for you?” Archer finished.

Sarek had continued to read through the orders, which were meticulously detailed.  He sighed as he lowered the PADD.  “It seems that the tellarites have fallen into poor relations with the saurians since their joining of the Rigellian Trade Commission.  As the saurians and rigelians will both be present at the celebration this month, it has been determined that…” he took a deep breath and continued reading, “ that the tellarites require reacquaintance with the philosophy of IDIC before interacting with any other species.”

“What?” Archer said crisply, his teeth snapping on the final ’t’.  He looked between Sarek and Soran in disbelief.

“This proves the point,” Talla broke in.  “We need to—“

“Hold on,” Archer said, lifting a hand.  He looked between Soran and his own andorian aides.  “Could you three excuse us please?”

The andorians rose from their seats and Soran bowed again, following after the two blue-skinned men as they departed.

Archer waited until the three were long out of earshot and glanced around carefully before speaking again, this time barely above a whisper.

“All right.  You have my attention.”  Archer looked between the two and then his eyes paused on Sarek with an almost amused expression.  “I guess sensitivity training just isn’t cutting it.”

Sarek pursed his lips.  “Indeed.”

Archer leaned back and sighed, his gaze falling to his folded hands.  He appeared tired and old to Sarek’s eyes.  “Sixty-five years later and this is still going on…  I’ll speak with the president as soon as possible.”

“Jonathan,” Sarek said, and Archer’s eyes rose to meet his.  “Do not feel that you have failed because other cultures still struggle with embracing diversity.”

Archer smiled wanly.  “It’s hard not to.”

“Other species do not seem to possess the…adaptability of humans.  It may require more than sixty-five years to convince the billions of sentients on other worlds to embrace the cultural differences in the galaxy.”

“I hope it doesn’t take too long.  I do want to retire one of these days.”

 

 


	7. Disillusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why are your emotional controls so weak, Sarek? Is it weariness from your time with the andorians? Or have you still not recovered from the ordeal two years ago?”
> 
> Sarek’s head snapped up and his eyes bored into Suubar’s. The elder vulcan’s expression was completely blank.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: In this chapter we finally see Sarek's inevitable encounter with Suubar, and discover even more sociopolitical problems.
> 
> Updates will be slower now because I had to go back to work. But I'm committed to getting this fic completed soon!
> 
> (On that note...for those of you waiting for my other fics to be updated, the computer I was using to write them broke. It's been broken since May, and I haven't been able to fix it in all this time. I have three completed fics on there - two other WIPs that I've been publishing, and one brand new novel-length fic. I didn't abandon my WIPs, it's just that I have a special talent for breaking computers.)

 

 

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows and illuminated the banquet hall.  The temperature was also four degrees higher in the room, Sarek calculated, due to the natural lighting.

Vulcans and humans were busy throughout the room, decorating it according to tellarite custom.  Sarek had been called to give final approval before the arrival of the Federation’s fourth founding species that evening.

“The chefs are preparing two separate meals per your instructions, Consul,” Soran said as Sarek consulted his list of requirements.  

“And the Saurian brandy?”

“I was able to acquire four bottles.”

“Good.  The transport should be arriving in four hours,” Sarek said, nodding his approval at the room before he turned to leave.

At least two of everything had been prepared at Sarek’s order due to the tellarite habit of complaining about everything.  And after nearly a week of research on the culture, Sarek believed they were ready for any contingency the vocal species may arrive with.  At least—the compound was ready.  The diplomatic situation was another matter entirely.

He had spent the past several evenings reviewing the Tellarite Bill of Rights—successfully translated into Vulcan by Diane Grayson—and the Tellar Interspecies Relations Accord in attempt to learn more of their way of thinking.  But he had found it inadequate.  Additional preparation on his part would be necessary in order to successfully gain the favor of the delegation.

“Contact Starfleet Command… ” he said to his aide who followed him as he exited the spacious room.  “Request any available records regarding human interaction with tellarites and send the information to my quarters.  I…will meditate now.”

Soran’s hesitation before replying did not go unnoticed.  “Yes, Consul.  Should I contact you when the tellarites arrive?”

“Before, if possible, so I can receive them.”

“As you wish,” Soran said, and dismissed himself with a bow.

Sarek allowed his thoughts to drift as he took the practiced route through the consulate back to his suite.  He would have preferred accompanying Archer and Talla on the lecture tour to his current assignment, but duty unfortunately required his presence for this meeting.

In three weeks time, Earth would re-launch its independent planetary space exploration agency, UESPA.  Attitudes between member species of the Federation and the other hospitable species in neighboring space regarding the program were varied.  Some even bordered on hostile, and based on talks with Vanak and Suubar, Sarek realized that not everyone was being honest in their opinions.

The two older vulcan diplomats had been serving on Earth for the entirety of UESPA’s reorganization and would come into the celebration at the end of the month toasting the re-launch and touting its part of IDIC and Federation principles.  But Sarek had learned privately that neither man supported the organization.

Sarek remembered Suubar’s comment at the briefing, that the humans continued to ignore guidance that would ease them more successfully into the galactic community.  The younger consul wondered if that opinion was a relic from the ways of the former High Command, or if it reflected the beliefs of the new one.

Sarek had not spent enough time with different humans to make a determination for himself if the space program would be a productive use of resources, or ill.  He also, unfortunately, had limited experience with tellarites.  It was due to that lack of experience that he had had Soran request Starfleet’s mission logs.  And perhaps, he reflected...due to a slight emotional contamination.

When he arrived at his suite, familiar sunlight illuminated the great room through the glass balcony doors.  But its warming rays were no comfort to him.  He quickly and methodically laid out his meditation lamp and pillow and began tea preparations.

_Suubar was correct…regarding everything.  So why select me?_

He thought again that the lecture tour would have been preferable, and a better use of his skills than his current assignment.  Currying favor with tellarites was something in which he had no experience whatsoever.  Few species had been able to accomplish that task at all, except for humans who seemed to find success with even their enemies.

Sarek paused in his laying out of the tea service as he realized that Archer may be able to provide even better insights than Starfleet mission logs.

He discarded his outer robe and then opened the balcony doors to allow the breeze to aerate his rooms.  He felt he would never grow accustomed to the smell of salt in San Francisco air, but it was preferable to the icy atmosphere of Andoria and to the stale, recirculated air of the compound.

After finishing with the tea, he sat before his computer console and connected to Federation Headquarters and requested communication with Archer.  The officer told him it would take several minutes to locate the ambassador, so Sarek closed his eyes and attempted a light meditation.

Unfortunately, as he had told Soran the day before when the aide questioned his well-being, meditation was impossible.  Ever since the inevitable meeting with Suubar he had been unable to entirely focus his thoughts…

 

 

_Sarek arrived in the office of the ambassador to find that Vanak and Arsa had preceded him and had already taken their places at the round table.  Suubar sat at the head flanked by his aides, and Vanak further to his right.  Sarek resisted a glance at his own aide as he took his place on Suubar’s left._

_To the ignorant, Sarek assumed that the two older vulcans must seem very alike.  Vanak and Suubar both had begun to show their years by the grey in their hair and the creases in their skin.  But there was a hardness to Suubar’s eyes that only Sarek understood, and that non-vulcans would fail to recognize as an emotion.  He wondered if it was merely_ his _presence that was eliciting the emotional response from the ambassador, or if it had become part of the man's being._

_“Consul,” Arsa greeted him with a nod.  Sarek returned the gesture as he adjusted his robes around him in his chair._

_“Sarek,” Suubar said, and the younger vulcan restrained himself from flinching at the informal address.  He noticed though, that it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Vanak.  “I trust you have settled into your new residence with ease these past several days?”_

_“I have,” Sarek replied._

_Suubar cocked his head to one side and considered him.  “Have you found it a difficult transition after your years on Andoria?”_

_Sarek held his composure, giving the man no satisfaction.  “No.”_

_Suubar looked down at the PADDs in front of him and passed one to his aide, Soleck, who in turn placed it before Sarek.  On the other side of the table Toven was providing the information to Vanak._

_“Hopefully your isolation has not inhibited your ability to interact with other species,” Suubar continued.  “When we host the Earth celebration of the re-launch of UESPA it will be our task to ensure that the visiting species leave with a…favorable opinion of the program.”_

_Sarek looked from Suubar to Vanak and lifted his brow in surprise.  “You do not support the humans’ decision to revive their exploration program?”_

_“It is not logical,” Vanak said._

_“You have spent far too much time away from our people, Sarek,” Suubar said.  “The humans are not honoring the principles of the Federation.  Their quest for knowledge is a cloak for their true goal of expansion.”_

_Sarek looked back to Vanak, who appeared to be in full agreement with Suubar’s assessment.  But if it were true, why had Solkar not told him during their meeting on Vulcan?_

_“Each member species of the Federation maintains its own space agency,” Sarek said, reasoning aloud.  “Is it not logical that the humans should want the same when their space agency was adopted by the Federation?”_

_“Humans continue to dominate Starfleet.  No one wants to serve with them,” Vanak said._

_“The consul is correct,” Suubar said.  “Ambassador Tos is exploring the possibility of a Federation starship crewed by vulcans, but it seems unlikely.  As of now, Starfleet is a Federation office in name only.  The humans are still in control.”_

_Sarek furrowed his brow.  “Is your attitude not a violation of Federation principles?”_

_Next to him, he could just barely hear Soran hold his breath.  And across the table, Vanak’s eyes widened._

_“Sarek…” Suubar said, slowly rising from the table and walking around closer to him.  “Are you implying an emotional response on my part?  That I have taken an unprincipled position?”_

_The younger vulcan realized he had walked into a trap, and his eyes searched for an anchor point as he considered a response.  His eyes passed over Soleck’s, which were narrowed in judgment.  Toven’s however, were merely curious, while Vanak and Arsa appeared almost surprised._

_“As representatives of our people…” Sarek began cautiously, slowly looking up to meet Suubar’s gaze, “should we not espouse IDIC in speech as well as in deed?”_

_“To acknowledge the humans’ flawed philosophy_ is _to acknowledge diversity,” Suubar said, his eyes locked onto Sarek’s.  “As I said before, you have been away for too long.  The seeds of Terra Prime are still scattered throughout the human population and this…space program is their attempt at appeasement to those minorities.  It is a waste of resources.  And it will only give those who hold to a less enlightened philosophy the tools they need to undermine the work of the Federation.”_

_Sarek looked incredulously at Vanak, whose expression suggested nothing but agreement._

_“Has anyone spoken with Ambassador Archer about this?  He certainly would not permit—”_

_“Ambassador Archer has been retired, you may recall,” Suubar said, returning to his seat.  “And he has been on Andoria longer than you.  His attention is focused only on the protection of that failing society.”_

_“My recent talks with him suggest otherwise.  Perhaps we—”_

_“We have already tried to persuade the humans against launching the program,” Suubar interrupted again.  “They continue to ignore guidance that would ease them more successfully into the galactic community.”_

_“They were not willing to listen,” Vanak added._

_Sarek could not believe the information he was receiving, but realized it would be pointless to argue.  He sat back in his chair as he realized his posture was tense—a sign of emotional response._

_“May we now discuss the matter at hand?” Suubar said, his tone almost deprecating.  But Sarek doubted the others noticed._

_He glanced down at his PADD and saw a list of tellarite names._

_“Consul Vanak,” Suubar began, “familiarize yourself with the species who will be attending the celebration.  You have been given access to the Federation database. Review all information about each species' relations with each other.  My aides are at your disposal if you need additional assistance.  We must take every measure toward peaceful interaction between them, especially the non-members.”_

_“Understood,” Vanak nodded, passing his PADD along to his aide._

_“Sarek,” Suubar continued, “the tellarites will be arriving ahead of the other delegations.  Relations between them and the humans have been relatively stable, however they strongly oppose the launch of UESPA.  It will be your task to convince them otherwise, to persuade them that it will in fact benefit the Federation.”_

_Sarek wondered why Vanak did not question the illogical contradictions that were coming from the ambassador._

_“Why?” he asked with resignation, glancing over the PADD._

_Suubar folded his hands and looked at him through narrowed eyes._

_“Why are your emotional controls so weak, Sarek?  Is it weariness from your time with the andorians?  Or have you still not recovered from the ordeal two years ago?”_

_Sarek’s head snapped up and his eyes bored into Suubar’s.  The elder vulcan’s expression was completely blank._

_His mind raced but he could think of no response.  He had never imagined Suubar would be so…cruel.  But his own failure to speak proved in the next moment to be his undoing._

_“What…’ordeal’?” Arsa spoke into the silence._

_“The death of my daughter,” Suubar said coolly, “Sarek’s wife.”_

 

 

The memory of that meeting haunted Sarek each time he tried to meditate, and had made his sleep uneasy every night.  No matter how he tried, he could not arrive at a place of peace.  So he simply spent all of his attention on the task he had been assigned.  The distraction was only somewhat successful.

He poured a second cup of tea, having finished his first, as he waited for contact with Archer.  He had resolved not to ask the ambassador about UESPA, deciding it was related to his previous discussion with the human and his andorian goddaughter about the potential of xenophobia in the Federation.  When next they were able to meet, he would ask about UESPA and bring up his superior’s concerns.

A signal at the computer drew his attention, but it wasn’t Archer.  Soran had completed his task.

Sarek opened the file he had been sent and found seventy-six Starfleet mission logs regarding human contact with tellarites.  He would have no time for sleep or meditation now.

 

 


	8. A New Old Order

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: A shorter chapter this time. Sarek has people who are willing to help, but is he willing or able to receive any?

 

 

“Sarek?  Sarek?”

A voice startled Sarek from a light doze.  A quick glance around his suite informed him that the voice had come from his computer console.  And when he sat up again he saw the familiar, wizened face of Jonathan Archer.

“Since when do vulcans take catnaps?” the human continued, seeing Sarek was awake.

“I was…reading Starfleet mission logs regarding interaction with tellarites,” the vulcan said by way of explanation.

“Ahh.  That would put me out too.  Although,” he chuckled, “some of those are funny.”

“Indeed,” Sarek said, straightening in his chair.  He set his cup of cold tea on the desk and leaned forward.  “It is…agreeable to see you.”

“You look tired Sarek.  Is everything all right?”

The consul stiffened.  “I have been assigned an…involved task, by my superior.”

“The tellarite delegation?” Archer asked.  “I remember.  Talla and I have missed you at these lectures.”

“I regret that I was not able to join you.  But this assignment is of great importance,” Sarek said.  “The tellarites oppose the launch of UESPA.”

Archer’s face grew larger in the viewscreen.  “What?”

“It is apparently viewed as an imperialistic act,” Sarek said, holding his tongue about the specifically vulcan opinions.

“If the Federation doesn’t present a unified front, it could jeopardize our relations with potential member species,” Archer said angrily.

“We are aware.  That is why I have been assigned the task of convincing the tellarites that it is a worthwhile endeavor before the launch at month’s end.  I was hoping you could give me some insight regarding personal interactions with tellarites.”

Archer sighed and leaned back, shaking his head.  He was silent for several moments, staring down at his hands before looking up at Sarek again.

“No offense, but…why were you assigned?  Why not someone from Ambassador Nichols’s staff?”

“The Vulcan Consulate is hosting all of the guests for the celebration.  And I am a former Federation ambassador who has lived among aliens.  It is logical.”

“Hmm.  Has a vulcan ever been successful in making friends with a tellarite?” Archer asked.

Sarek thought for a moment.  “The common knowledge among my people is that tellarites hold a low opinion of vulcan culture, but our logic has always been successful in negotiations.”

“So you’re going to…use logic to persuade them that UESPA is a good idea?  How many tellarites have you met before?”

“Only two.”

Archer chuckled.  “Logic…is more likely to offend them, than persuade them.  It may work when discussing trade agreements.  But political opinion is something else entirely.”

“Quite so,” Sarek said, drawing a deep breath.

“Perhaps you should ask your superior to talk to one of the human ambassadors.  See if they can handle it.”

Sarek thought again to the meeting with Suubar.  “I am afraid that will not be possible.”

 

 

_“What…’ordeal’?” Arsa spoke into the silence._

_“The death of my daughter,” Suubar said coolly, “Sarek’s wife.”_

_Sarek measured his breathing by half-seconds to be certain it was even.  He maintained eye-contact with Suubar, not trusting in his fragile control of his emotions if he were to see the reactions of the others.  Certainly, they would now inquire about the circumstances and his disgrace would be complete.  He would not lose his position, but his family would be further shamed._

_“But perhaps it is fortuitous,” Suubar continued as if his comments were normal, “as the tellarites do not respond well to logic.  They seem only to respond to strong emotions.  It is well that you were assigned here at this time.”_

_The young vulcan consul’s eyes closed in defeat.  Less than a week on Earth, back among his own people after two years, and already his reputation had been ruined._

_“Ambassador,” Vanak spoke, his tone communicating disapproval, “will it advance our purpose to insult the consul before he has even begun his first assignment?”_

_Suubar turned towards the older vulcan, and Sarek cautiously followed his gaze._

_“I intend no insult, Consul.  I merely state facts.”_

 

 

Sarek bid farewell to Archer and expressed his hope that they could meet in person again soon.  After downloading the Starfleet mission logs to a PADD he powered down his computer and moved to the sofa.  It was logical to be comfortable if he was to focus for the hours necessary it would take to read through all of the logs.

Day soon turned to night, and when he had completed reviewing nearly three-fourths of the logs the chime of his door sounded.

Sarek set the PADD on his tea table and rose.  “Enter.”

The door slid open to admit Soran.

“The tellarites have not arrived,” Sarek made the logical conclusion.  He realized he should have noticed that hours ago when they missed their deadline—further evidence of his weakened state.

“No.  Their transport was delayed by a solar flare.  They should arrive within three hours,” the young aide reported.

“That is adequate time to finish reviewing these logs,” Sarek said, retaking his seat and taking up the PADD again.

“Consul…” Soran said, stepping further into the room, “have you meditated?”

Sarek stared down at the busy lines of text.  “No.”

“Have you taken a meal today?”

Sarek’s brow rose as he realized he hadn’t.  “No.”

“May I prepare something for you, or procure something from one of the restaurants?” Soran asked.

“It is unnecessary,” Sarek said, resuming his reading.  His focus waned however when Soran’s shadow passed him and the aide sat across from him, leaning forward.

“Consul.  You are not well.”

Sarek kept his eyes on the PADD.  “I must complete my preparations before the tellarites arrive.  I will take a meal with them when they do, as planned.”

Soran gave no reply and a moment later stood and walked beyond Sarek’s line of sight.  He listened as his aide closed the balcony doors (it _was_  getting cold) and moved to collect the used tea service.

Sarek resumed his reading of the mission logs as he listened to the man’s familiar putterings.  So far, the insights of the humans had only confirmed what both Suubar and Archer had suggested.  Tellarites were highly emotional and argumentative and only responded to those who behaved in kind.

If it was necessary to have a vulcan attend to the tellarites, it was logical that it be one who was…emotional.

His distraction inescapable, he set the PADD aside and stared at the unlit meditation lamp.

It was illogical to deny that his accepting the assignment on Andoria was anything more than an escape from his personal problems.  And if in fact he had become emotionally compromised as a result of that action, those two years had been a waste.

He straightened suddenly as Soran set a fresh pot of tea in front of him.

Sarek lifted an eyebrow as his aide poured them each a cup.  “Were you always so familiar in your service to Solkar?”

“No,” the younger vulcan replied.  “It is only at his behest that I…behave thus toward you.  His reasons were logical.”

Sarek looked for any sign of deception in the man’s face as he sat opposite, but found none.

“Consul, you should consult with a healer,” Soran continued.

Sarek averted his eyes and stared unblinking at the rising steam.

“It is logical.  You have been unable to meditate and unable to sleep.  When the tellarites arrive you will need full command of your faculties to appropriately respond to their…cultural eccentricities.”

Sarek finally looked up.  “It will not help.”

“A healer may be able to provide temporary aide.”

“Temporary,” Sarek said pointedly as he reached for his tea.  “That is precisely the issue.  As long as I am assigned to serve under Suubar there can be no resolution.”

Sarek watched as Soran furrowed his brow.  “The future is always uncertain,” the aide finally said.

A thought struck Sarek and he leaned forward.  “You are married?”

“Yes,” the aide nodded.

“Have you any children?”

“No.”

“Where is your wife?”

“She is assigned to the consulate in Canberra.”

Sarek’s brow rose.  “For how long?”

“She has been there for the past six years.”

“My regrets,” Sarek said.

Soran nodded.  “She has adapted well.  And she spends much of her time in the desert.  She claims it is reminiscent of Vulcan.”

Sarek thought that unlikely and sipped his tea.  Despite the breach of privacy his grandfather had made, he was grateful for a confidant.  But he needed his young aide to understand how Suubar saw him and why this assignment would ultimately be impossible.

“When did you last see your wife?”

Soran cocked his head.  “Approximately eight months ago.  She and I meet whenever our off-duty time permits.”

“And what would you do if she were stationed on another planet, or if you were?”

Soran leaned back.  “Consul, you know that considerations are made when vulcans are given off-world assignments.”

“But if somehow you were to become separated?” Sarek persisted.

Soran turned to look out the window, having reached the inevitable conclusion Sarek had intended.  The consul finished his tea and set the empty cup on the table.

“We cannot absolve ourselves of our heritage.  Suubar will forever see me as a traitor to his daughter, and to our ways.”

Soran turned back and poured another cup of tea.  “From the information Solkar gave me, she held equal responsibility.”

Sarek watched the red-brown liquid fill the cup, the steam instantly rising high.

“It matters not.  Suubar has made his conclusions.”

Soran set the teapot down and folded his hands.  “Then the matter at hand remains.  You are unwell.  It is unlikely that you will be reassigned, unless you appeal to the High Command.”

Sarek looked up sharply.

“…Which you will not do.”

“No,” Sarek said decisively.

“So it is logical to seek a means to best attend to your duties despite the ambassador’s persecution.”

Sarek looked down into his cup.  “I cannot consult a healer.”

“If it permits you to—”

“I will not have my personal affairs be the subject of gossip throughout the consulate.  The situation has already become…”

Sarek trailed off, remembering the looks on the faces of the other vulcans at the meeting.  Arsa had been plainly surprised and in her youthful inexperience, was likely to mention the matter to someone.    Vanak, to his relief, had been much more concerned with Suubar’s inappropriate manners, and Toven had also seemed disturbed.

Soleck, of course, had been Suubar’s aide at the time of Sarek’s marriage.  It was clear where his opinions and loyalties lie.

“Do you truly think…” Soran said, and Sarek met his eyes, “that Suubar will continue this course of…humiliation?  It is clearly motivated by emotion.  It will reflect more poorly on him than on you if he persists.”

Sarek leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.  Flat, plain, void.  He wished his mind were the same.

“I have been on Earth for thirteen years, Consul.  Humans partake in gossip almost as if it were a sport.  However most only persist if they see evidence of…an emotional response.”

Sarek adjusted his gaze and peered at Soran from beneath half-closed eyelids.

“Do nothing.  Simply continue in your work.  Suubar will only discredit himself if he continues.  And if he continues to behave so…illogically, you know how the High Command will respond.”

Sarek sighed silently through his nose and closed his eyes.  He was so tired.

“Rearrange the reception schedule to begin tomorrow at the same time,” he instructed.

Soran reached across the table for his PADD and began making notes.  “Do you not think the tellarites will respond with displeasure at not being received?”

_I do not care…_

“You meet them,” Sarek said, opening his eyes just in time to see Soran’s brow rise considerably.

“As you wish.  Shall I reschedule your appointment with the humans tomorrow, or cancel it?”

Sarek sat up.  “What appointment?”

“With Roger Grayson and his family,” Soran reminded him.

Sarek looked down into the cup of tea, the same color as the young human woman’s hair.  He had forgotten entirely.

“What time is the appointment?”

“Seventeen-hundred hours.  The only time all of them were available at once was for the evening meal.”

Sarek thought for a moment and then closed his eyes again.  “Invite them to join the dinner with the tellarites.  If they decline, then reschedule.”

“Very well.”

 

 


	9. Getting Down to Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sarek shows what he can do. And he has another brief meeting with a certain human...

 

 

“Gak!” Tellarite Ambassador Nalga exclaimed, throwing his _mashya_  down with some force.  It bounced across the table until it landed in the middle of Sarek’s dish.  “I wouldn’t feed this to my pet _krog!”_

“If you would prefer something else, it can easily be arranged,” Sarek responded politely, picking up the saliva-covered vegetable with his fork and depositing it on his napkin.

“If I wanted to eat roots, I would have stayed home!” the ambassador protested again.

“What would you like to eat?” Sarek asked calmly.

The tellarite ambassador lifted a hand and stroked his furry chin, looking between the other representatives who sat beside him.  As he did, Soran silently lifted everything from Sarek’s place-setting and stood up behind his chair, effectively concealing the ruined food.

The tellarite smiled and tilted his head back—a show of superiority.

“Andorian redbat,” the diminutive man declared, “and _xixu_  hash.”

“I’ll have my aide see to it immediately,” Sarek said with a nod to Soran, who bowed and quickly left the room, taking Sarek’s soiled meal with him.  The rest of the wait staff hurriedly began clearing the table as they had practiced in the days leading up to the tellarites’ arrival.

The ambassador’s grin slowly morphed into a look of bewilderment.

“While we wait for a more suitable meal, perhaps we could discuss the growing population problem in the Rigel system?”

Sarek was tired.  But so far, relations with the tellarite delegation were going well.  When they had arrived, they complained about the inefficiency of the Starfleet transports that had to wait fifteen hours for a solar flare to pass.  After being shown to quarters they complained about their size, and the ‘frigid’ temperature of the entire consulate.  They had complained about each meal, the inefficiency of their tour guide, and the fact that the tour was too long.

Finally, they had complained about low-ranking humans including a child being invited to their dinner that evening.

Sarek had yet to speak with the Grayson family at all except for a brief greeting, but whenever he found a moment to glance at them they seemed to be enjoying themselves.  Why, he could not fathom.  He resolved to ask them when he had the chance.

“Rigel dominates commerce in this region of space.  If they have a population problem, it’s their own fault!” Nalga exclaimed.

“If a solution cannot be found, the trade commission will suffer economical repercussions.  They ferry dilithium to your homeworld to supply your space fleet, do they not?” Sarek asked.

The ambassador glared at Sarek calculatingly.

“They do,” Nalga finally growled.

“You may suggest to your councilman that he speak on behalf of Rigel at the next meeting.  Or you may find your fleet defunct in less than a decade.”

At that moment, Soran returned followed by the wait staff pushing carts of steaming, hot meals.

The tellarites gaped at the rapid response to their order for different food.

“Redbat and _xixu_ , as requested,” Soran announced, serving the ambassador his plate himself.

Nalga looked between Sarek and his aide with distrust.  “How is it that you plant-eaters have redbat in your food stores?”

“Vulcans embrace diversity,” Sarek said.  “To not acknowledge the dietary needs of other species and prepare for them would be dishonoring to Federation principles.”

Nalga narrowed his eyes for another moment before daintily picking up the dead animal between his fingers and licking it.

Sarek took that moment to glance at his human guests.  They had remained wisely silent for the entirety of the meal, and now Roger Grayson was looking at Sarek with a smile that the consul wasn’t able to interpret.  His wife was quietly eating her meal with a similar look on her face.  The daughter’s face was expressionless as she ate.  Sarek noticed that she seemed to be avoiding the redbat and was only eating the _xixu_.

“Perhaps Rigel wouldn’t be in so much trouble if they hadn’t recently partnered with the saurians,” one of the lesser tellarite representatives spoke up with his mouth full.

“The saurians are exporters,” Sarek said.  “It is only logical.”

“Bah!” Nalga said, not looking up from his meal.

Sarek glanced at Soran, who nodded, and reached beneath the cloth covering one of the serving carts to obtain a large, dark-colored glass bottle with a bent neck.

“In anticipation of your arrival, I sent to Sauria for their most prized export,” Sarek said as Soran approached the ambassador with the bottle held before him.

The tellarites narrowed their eyes and leaned forward, scrutinizing the bottle.

“What is it?” Nalga finally asked.

“Brandy.  It is so potent that it has been known to cause blindness in species with…more delicate physiologies.”

The tellarites leaned back, apprehension plain on their faces.  Soran glanced at Sarek, whose nod was so subtle that only the aide could see it.

The younger vulcan rounded the table and uncorked the bottle, pouring a generous quantity into Sarek’s glass.

“It is made from a fruit which grows only in the high mountains.  The saurians risk their lives to obtain it during each harvest.  This vintage, I understand, was bottled one-hundred and sixty-four years ago.”

Soran had walked around the other side of the table and was offering the drink to the Graysons.

“Just a small one,” Roger indicated.  Both of the women accepted a modest amount as well.

“Let me have some!” Nalga said, holding up his glass.  Soran filled his glass and those of the other representatives.

Sarek raised his glass high, taking care that the cuff of his sleeve didn’t brush against the redbat on his plate.  “Shall we toast to continued successful cooperation between Federation species?”

Nalga narrowed his eyes at him for a long moment before nodding crisply.  “To the Federation!” he said, and gulped down his drink.

The other tellarites followed suit and were gasping in pain the next moment.  Sarek took a careful sip, not allowing the pain of the burn to show in his features.  He noticed the humans left their drinks untouched after witnessing the tellarites’ reactions.

“I have acquired three more bottles through the Rigellian Trade Commission.  I can have my aide bring them to your quarters later, if you would like them.  Compliments of the High Command,” Sarek said, taking another, larger drink for show.

Nalga gaped and blinked at him several times before finally laughing aloud.  He waved Soran over who poured the ambassador another drink.  “Leave the bottle!” he said before raising his glass.  “A toast to you, Sarek of Vulcan!  You are the least tiresome member of your species I’ve met!”

Sarek raised his right eyebrow.  “Indeed.”

The tellarite’s laugh rang through the banquet hall again, and he swallowed his second glass.

The rest of the dinner continued without difficulty.  Sarek refrained from mentioning anything about UESPA, thinking it wise to wait at least a week before bringing up the subject.  He knew that his success in amusing Nalga for one evening did not mean that the tellarite trusted him.

After bidding good night to the delegation, with Soran leading them back to their quarters at Sarek’s request, the consul turned his attention to his human guests who had remained behind.

“My apologies, Mr Grayson, to you and your family, for wasting your time,” he said.

“Not at all!” Roger said, shaking his head with a smile.  “That was extremely clever!  How _did_  you get Andorian redbat here at all, let alone prepared in five minutes?”

Sarek folded his hands behind his back.  “I researched the ambassador’s previous missions.  It was well-documented that he often requested the delicacy.”

“Then…if you knew that, why didn’t you serve it right away?” Diane Grayson asked.

The younger woman, Amanda, looked up at her mother’s face with the solemn composure Sarek had come to realize was her norm.  But her eyes betrayed a desire to speak.

“Miss Grayson,” Sarek addressed her, and she looked at him.  “I am curious about your opinion of my methods.”

The parents looked at Sarek in confusion, and then at their daughter, who seemed just as surprised at being spoken to as the last time Sarek encountered her.

“You obviously know a lot about their species,” she said after a moment.

Sarek lifted his right eyebrow.  “Elaborate.”

The young woman looked at her parents, who were still watching her in confusion.  “Tellarites complain,” she said simply.

“Everyone knows that,” Roger said.

Amanda nodded.  “If the consul had served the redbat first, they would have asked for something else.  It was logical to save the preferred dish for after they requested a change.”

Diane’s face cleared, and she smiled up at Sarek.  “That’s brilliant!”

Sarek politely nodded his thanks.

“But wait,” Roger said, “why did you ask us here?”

Sarek looked at their daughter, who bowed her head so he couldn’t see her eyes.

“I wish to discuss the political bias of the compound’s education system.  Your daughter brought the issue to my attention when we chanced to speak several days ago.”

“Political bias?” Diane said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“There are…concerns,” Sarek said, remembering Suubar’s comment at the banquet his first night at the consulate.  “Your insights, as non-vulcans, could be useful.”

Diane looked first at her daughter, and then at her husband.  “We don’t get a lot of free time together…” she said, looking troubled.

“Tonight was actually kind of special,” Roger added.  “We haven’t sat down for a meal as a family in over a month.”

Sarek thought privately that humans may not do well in the ministry.

“Then, permit me to aide in your evening’s continuance.  Will you join me in my suite for tea?”

All three humans blinked in surprise and looked between one another.  After a few moments, the patriarch looked up at him again with a surprised smile.

“We accept!  Thank you, Consul.”

“It is…my pleasure,” Sarek said with a bow, hoping he chose the correct human expression.

 

 

Ten minutes later the group were seated on Sarek’s sofas, a steaming pot of tea between them.  

In this environment, Sarek noticed that the humans displayed far more emotions and in greater variety.  Roger kept looking around in seeming amazement at some aspect of the suite, but Sarek couldn’t speculate on what it was since the man had no single point of focus.

Diane, his wife, seemed suddenly conscious of her appearance and was holding herself very stiffly as she sat at the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.  She held her head high, but her gaze kept slipping downward.

The daughter, Amanda, was exhibiting a combination of her parents’ expressions.  She sat as properly as her mother, but without the discomfiture and shyness.  Like her father she was looking around the rooms, but her eyes held no incredulity.  She seemed to be simply observing.  Frequently, her eyes fell on the tea set.

Soran was seated next to Sarek per his request, prepared to take notes when relevant.  But before they began, Sarek attended to his guests.

“This is an Earth variety of tea that Ambassador Solkar favored,” Sarek said as he poured their cups.  “It is called ‘Lady Grey.’”

Roger Grayson smirked and looked at his wife and daughter.  “If you have some ‘Earl Grey’ then we’re a complete set.”

Sarek cocked his head to one side.  “I can acquire that variety if you wish?”

The human sobered and cleared his throat.  “Sorry, I was just joking.  Since it’s like my name?”

Sarek was unmoved.  “I see.”

He watched as the humans looked embarrassed for a moment and sipped their tea in an apparent attempt to ease their discomfort.

“Did your daughter tell you about Ambassador Archer’s presentation?” Sarek asked, supposing that moving forward would help the humans relax.

“Yes,” Roger said, setting down his cup.  His expression suggested the flavor of the tea wasn’t to his liking.  “The way she described it, it was the greatest history lesson she’s ever heard.”

“You really inspired her,” Diane added.

Sarek looked over at their daughter, who was leaning forward to place her cup back on the tea service.  As she did so, her long, wavy hair fell forward, draping over her shoulders with the ends resting in her lap.  She brushed them aside and folded her hands gently as she looked up at Sarek.

“When we spoke afterward you implied that there was bias in the teachings at the compound.  Could you elaborate on your perception?” Sarek asked her.

“I meant no offense,” she said, looking between him and her parents.

“We understand,” Diane encouraged her.  “Go ahead.”

Sarek inclined his head toward her and waited.

“And it’s no different than when I went to human schools,” she said, addressing her parents, almost apologetically.

“Please, elaborate,” Sarek repeated.

She took a deep breath and looked up at him earnestly.  “At the previous school I attended, after they taught us about First Contact, they taught us how…” she hesitated a moment, her eyes hardening, “how vulcans had feared us and held us back technologically.”

“That is fact,” Sarek said.

Both Roger and Diane looked astonished at his admission.

“The former High Command was misguided,” Sarek said by way of explanation, and then turned back to Amanda.

“They also taught us that it was still going on, and that we would always have to fight for our rights to explore space.”

“Amanda,” Diane said, “why didn’t you tell us?”

The younger woman looked down, her brow furrowing.  “I…suppose I was too young to know what to do.  And when I started attending the compound school,” she continued, looking back up at Sarek, “I thought it would be different.  But…”

“You cannot offend me with the truth,” Sarek responded to her hesitance.

“My teachers here have taught that it was the chaos of human emotions that prevented us from working with vulcans, and they had no choice to hold us back for our own good.”

Sarek glanced over at Soran, who nodded and began taking notes.

“You mean your teachers say this to the class with you there?” Roger asked, astonished.

Amanda nodded.

Sarek set his tea down untouched.  “It is regrettable that these flaws exist in the compound, and in Earth schools.”

The humans regarded him silently.  After several moments, Roger Grayson cleared his throat.

“Well…um…” he said uncertainly.

“Have you anything else to add?” Sarek asked, looking between the three.

Roger and Diane looked at their daughter, who looked at Sarek.  

“I don’t think so,” she said.

“Are you…going to take some action?” Diane asked uncertainly.

“I shall discuss the matter with my superiors,” Sarek said.  “Your contribution will be of great value.”

“Oh, all right.  Good,” Roger said.

Sarek had the impression that the human wasn’t entirely sure how to respond in social situations involving vulcans.  It was curious, since the man was liaison to the ministry and worked in close quarters with vulcans.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Consul,” Diane said.

Sarek understood the social cue and stood, Soran following suit.  The humans also rose, almost gratefully.

“I shall remember that you chose to spend your valuable time assisting me,” he replied.

He walked to the door to see them out.

“Thanks for inviting us.  And, to the dinner.  We had a great time,” Roger said, his grin returning as the family exited.  “Good night!”

“Good night,” Sarek repeated, watching for a moment while the humans walked away.

Just before the door closed, he heard Roger whisper to his family:  “Was that a vulcan ‘thank you’?”

Sarek turned back to Soran, who stood looking at him with raised brows.

The consul folded his hands in front of his middle, regarding his aide for a moment before returning to the sofa.  Together they sat, and Sarek took a long swallow of his tea.

“Soran,” he finally said, turning to face the younger man, “what is your opinion on the matter?”

The aide input a few more notes into his PADD.  “I agree.  A report to Ambassador Suubar or Ambassador Tos is in order.”

Sarek continued to look at him.  “I meant, what do you think of how the compound is educating our youth?  Do you agree with the interpretation of recent history regarding discord between vulcans and humans?”

Soran halted in his note-taking and looked up.  Sarek’s gaze upon him was intent, almost forceful.

“No.  I do not.”

Sarek looked for signs of deception—something he was having to do far too often with other vulcans—but finding none, he relaxed and finished his tea.

“Schedule an appointment…with Ambassador Tos,” he finally said.

“Yes, Consul.”

 

 


	10. New Insights

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So sorry for the delay in updating! December is the hardest month for people in my profession. But things should be moving forward again now.
> 
> In this chapter Sarek takes a little more time to get to know his aide.

 

 

The tellarites complained that the aquarium was a waste of their time.

Then they complained that the fish were only for show and they couldn’t select one to eat.

They complained that the tour shuttle flew too high.  They complained that it flew too fast.  

As Sarek and Soran conducted the delegation throughout San Francisco, the tellarites loudly questioned the wisdom of a body that chose to assign vulcan tour guides on Earth.  And when Roger Grayson later joined them they complained that he did not know the answers to all of their questions about the sights.

After two more hours of patience, the tellarites complained that each time they visited Earth they were shown the same places.  When offered a tour of the new First Contact museum, they complained that they weren’t interested in the history of a more primitive species.

Grayson made an excuse then and departed, with more emotional restraint than Sarek thought him capable.

Then the tellarites complained about the bad manners of humans.

When they returned to the consulate that afternoon, Sarek had Soran send the database of Earth tour sites to the tellarites’ rooms.  He told them to choose their own itinerary, as their honored guests.

But Sarek knew he would have to strategically include various sociopolitical sites or introduce them into conversation when possible.  The tellarites had been on Earth for three days and so far Sarek saw no signs of being able to discuss UESPA without receiving vicious opposition.

After eight hours of enduring their coarse behaviors, the two vulcans finally parted ways with the tellarites after an invitation to a private dinner.  The tellarites agreed only on the conditions that the place they dined be kept warm and quiet, which Sarek assured them they would find in the consulate’s private dining rooms.

When Sarek entered his suite he opened the balcony doors as had become his habit and took off his ceremonial robe.  Soran moved to the kitchen after his habit, but this time paused before preparing the Earth variety of tea that Solkar and now Sarek favored.

“After such a day,” Soran said, “most humans prefer a beverage of an alcoholic nature.”

Sarek lifted an eyebrow at him.  “Tea will suffice.  However, were I human, I may desire such external relief after eight hours with tellarites.”

Sarek hung his robe and this time sat not on the sofa, but in one of the great chairs in the room.  It provided support while allowing the body to relax, and he took full advantage of it.

“Grayson demonstrated impressive restraint,” Soran commented as he brought their tea.

“Indeed,” Sarek said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

The human had been remarkably calm, though the physical signs of his emotional tension had been apparent and growing the entirety of the time he had accompanied them.  Sarek wondered then if the reason that the consulate had been chosen to host not only the tellarites but the upcoming celebration of UESPA was _because_  of the non-emotional nature of his people.  It would not only spare the humans who as a people were inexperienced in the realm of interspecies relations, but perhaps encourage diplomatic relations.

Emotional displays from the hosts would be too much.

Sarek then recalled Suubar’s attacks against his supposed emotional behavior, which contradicted the logical conclusions he had just been considering.

“Tellarites do not argue for reasons,” Soran said, and Sarek opened his eyes to look at him, “they simply argue.”

Sarek reached for the cup of tea that his aide had poured and joined his subordinate in the quiet comfort.

“Everything for the evening is prepared,” Soran stated after quickly finishing his tea.

Sarek raised his right eyebrow again as he watched him.

“With your permission,” the aide continued, “I wish to meditate.”

Sarek thought the tellarites must have had as profound effect upon the younger vulcan as they had had on him.

“You may go,” Sarek said.

Soran set the cup down and moved to rise, but then stopped.  He settled himself again and folded his hands in his lap.

“Consul.  Has your meditation of late been successful?”

Sarek thought about that.  In fact, the tellarites had been such a distraction from the situation with Suubar that he _had_  been able to meditate.

“It has been sufficient,” he replied after a moment.

“There is a place I go,” Soran continued, “where I have found greater success meditating than my rooms.”

Sarek looked at him in interest.

“If you’ll permit me, I can take you there.  You may find it advantageous.”

Sarek nodded.

 

 

Five minutes later they had ridden the turbolift the short distance up to the top floor of the consulate.  Sarek had not yet been there as there were no operational offices.  As Soran explained, when the humans built the consulate they originally began designing the top floor as restaurants.  When the vulcan engineers arrived they explained the illogic of such a design.

Apparently, due to lack of cultural understanding, it took a number of months to reach a compromise.  The restaurants and novelty shops were all on the ground floor, and the mis-designed top floor remained in disuse.

It contained several empty rooms of varying sizes, one large enough to be a dining hall, and several rooms that were being used for storage or simply stood empty.  But that was not what Soran had found useful in his meditations.

“This,” he said,” when the exited the turbolift, “is the observation lounge.”

Sarek looked around.

It was a long hallway that extended nearly the length of the building.  Sarek could see at both ends that it turned the corners in the same direction, and he expected it was one continuous corridor around the center of the consulate.

The ceiling had been built entirely as a skylight so the place was almost blindingly bright at midday with natural lighting.  One side of the hallway were solid walls with doors leading to the other rooms.  But the other side, the side central to the building, were windows that showed the interior of the consulate.

Another feature of the building was that from the main ballroom and the main dining room, one could look up and see all the way to the roof, which had been built as skylights over those rooms as well.  From the observation lounge with its endless windows, one could look down all the levels of the building to the ballroom and dining hall.

It was almost like being outdoors, Sarek thought, except for the stuffiness.  He began walking slowly down the hall and Soran followed.

On the side of hall with the windows were various chairs and benches, and a few small tea tables.  The sunlight made the hall significantly warmer than any other place Sarek had been in the consulate.

“When I wish for solitude, I come here,” Soran said.

Sarek allowed his eyes to lose focus as they slowly walked the long corridor.  The plain grey color mixed with the bright sunlight was almost immediately soothing.  And at night, he knew, the stars would be a familiar backdrop.

“Do others frequent this place?” he asked.

“No,” Soran replied, “I have seen no one else.”

Sarek thought that this would indeed encourage productive meditation.  But before he had turned Soran was already speaking again.

“You are welcome to this space if you ever wish to meditate here.”

“I will not be intruding?” Sarek asked.

“The corridor is long,” Soran said simply.

Sarek nodded.  “Do you have a preferred area?”

“The hall opposite the turbolift.”

Sarek slowly came to a stop and turned to face his aide.  He inclined his head respectfully.  “My thanks for your generous offer.  I believe I will come here often.”

Soran regarded him for a moment.  “I do hope it will be useful to you.”

The younger vulcan’s expression made Sarek curious, and he found himself speaking more personally than he would an acquaintance.  Even one who knew so much about him.

“How have you found your years among humans?”

Soran appeared as if the question was unexpected, and he folded his hands behind his back and thought for several seconds.

“I have learned a great deal.  Both about them, and about my own nature and limitations.”

Sarek nodded slightly and glanced away, considering his aide’s words.  There was no implication to the positive or negative in what he said.

“Why do you ask?” Soran said a moment later.

Sarek maintained his focus on a spot on the carpet as he considered his answer.  Finally, he looked up.

“I wish to find something…permanent.”

Soran almost looked surprised.  “You will not return to Vulcan?”

Sarek slowly exhaled through his nose.  “No.”

Soran looked as if he might say something, but he did not.  Sarek was grateful that the eager young man had a mature sense of propriety.

“You have been here for thirteen years,” Sarek continued, “do you not consider it permanent?”

“Earth is where I have been assigned.  But Vulcan is my home.”

Sarek did not allow the idea of ‘home’ to enter his thoughts.

“You have not developed any affinity for humans or their culture?” Sarek asked, genuinely curious.

“I have not,” Soran said.  “They are simply…too emotional.  Emotion permeates all that they do.”

Sarek nodded.  “It does for so many species.”

Soran looked curious then, and asked a question before Sarek could continue.  “Did you find Andoria to your liking?”

Sarek turned and began walking back toward the turbolift.  Unfortunately, the idea of ‘home’ was settling into the back of his mind.  He wanted to begin using this new meditation space immediately.

“I found the work challenging, and fulfilling.  But I suspect that had I spent many years there I would have eventually needed to leave for my health.”

Soran had turned his gaze to the carpet as he matched Sarek’s stride.  He nodded his head at the consul’s last supposition and folded his hands behind his back.

“Have you heard from Ambassador Solkar?” the younger vulcan asked.

Sarek turned toward him.  “No.”

Soran’s gaze did not change, and Sarek followed the logical pattern the man’s thoughts must be on.  How would a vulcan nearly two-hundred years of age who had spent over half his life on Earth now be faring on the ice-world of Andoria?

As well as Ambassador Soval, Sarek assumed, since both vulcans had followed similar paths.  Although his grandfather had worked with humans most of his life and Soval had the benefit of experience with many species.  Together they would surely find a solution to the andorians’ problem.

“I am certain I would have been contacted if circumstances are not well,” he said eventually.

Soran glanced at him and nodded.  “It was Solkar who appointed me to my position.  Prior to being a personal aide I worked as a cultural attache.”

Sarek raised an eyebrow.  “You prefer work as a personal aide?”

Soran stopped as they reached the turbolift and faced his superior.  “I find the work…gratifying.”

Sarek didn’t know the younger vulcan well enough yet to glean all possible meanings from his statement.

“I hope that you will find your work with me as stimulating as that with my grandfather,” he finally said.

Soran nodded, and Sarek stepped into the turbolift.  He was surprised when Soran followed, having expected the young man to stay to meditate.  But, he realized, it was logical that the man would prefer to have his lamp and other materials with him first.

“Soran,” he asked, deciding then to take full advantage of the opportunity his grandfather had gifted to him in this loyal young man.  “When Solkar told you about the situation with Suubar…did he imply any bias regarding the situation?”

Soran didn’t answer immediately.  Sarek adjusted his gaze to look at him.

“He did,” the younger vulcan replied.

Sarek’s brow rose.

“He clearly favors you in the situation.”

The turbolift stopped and the doors slid open, but Sarek didn’t exit.  He turned to face his aide fully.

“Speak plainly, Soran.”

The younger vulcan folded his hands behind his back and looked down briefly, before meeting his superior’s eyes with his head held high.

“I thought perhaps I was seeing the first sign of weakness in the ambassador.  The claims he made of emotional motivation on Suubar’s part, and on that of his family, seemed highly offensive.  And to make a judgment based on familial loyalty as it seemed he was doing would be illogical.”

“Of course,” Sarek acknowledged, but he held Soran’s gaze, urging the man on.

“However…since I have seen firsthand the erratic behavior of Ambassador Suubar…it would seem his conclusions were based simply in observed fact.”

Sarek finally turned and stepped out of the turbolift, his aide following closely.

“It would seem,” Sarek said, glancing over his shoulder and indicating that Soran walk beside him.  The younger man caught up dutifully.  “That there are vulcans who are not fully guided by logic.”

“Unfortunate.  Also unfortunate that said vulcans are permitted to represent the will of the High Command in such an influential capacity.”

Sarek blinked.  He hadn’t even thought of that.

“On the subject of vulcans operating outside of logic,” Soran continued, “your appointment with Ambassador Tos to discuss the education system is at 1400 hours tomorrow.  It should give you reason to leave the tellarites should their luncheon be long.”

The consul thought not for the first time that he needed to thank his grandfather for leaving him such an aide.

He also thought he might thank Soran for his excellent and considerate planning, but, giving thanks after all was not logical.

 

 


	11. The Dark Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Here is a nice, long chapter to make up for the month of no updates. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

 

 

_"Father, will the bonding hurt?”_

_“No, my son.”_

_Young Sarek gazed at the shadows, lengthening and shortening over the rocky landscape as the objects on which they were cast appeared to move closer and farther away.  Of course, Sarek knew the illusion was merely affected by how quickly the shuttle was moving._

_The sun had crested the horizon twenty-six minutes prior and was illuminating the desert-world that was Vulcan in golden splendor.  As the ship ascended to fly over The Forge Sarek thought of the lessons his grandfather had taught him._

_'_ Tradition is the beginning of being Vulcan,’ _Solkar had told him.  And when Sarek had asked his grandfather if he could accompany him to Earth, the wise older vulcan had also told him that he needed to know his own mind before he could begin to know the minds of others._

_Sarek wanted to ask his father if now that he was of the age for bonding that it meant he knew his own mind, since in bonding he would be forever joined to the mind of another.  And if he knew his own mind, he thought, perhaps his grandfather would let him visit him on Earth._

_The flash of a lightning strike was reflected in the window of the shuttle, and Sarek gazed up at the tempestuous skies._

_Logically, they would not be flying directly over The Forge if their craft was not designed adequately._

_But Sarek still wondered if some other direct path could one day be found between ShirKahr and Vulcana Regar._

’Innovation is at the soul of all sentients,'  _his grandfather had continued._   ’Without it, we are no more than the beasts of the desert.'

_Sarek tried to innovate as often as he could.  Sometimes he was successful and earned positive reports from his parents, but other times he merely earned lectures._

_He didn’t suppose the idea of an underground transportation system to bypass The Forge would be met with a lecture.  But, logically, if such a system did not already exist there must be a reason.  Unless he was simply the first to innovate in such a way._

_“Father…” he began carefully, “why is there not an underground transport to cross The Forge?”_

_“To bypass the desert would be dishonoring to the ways of Surak,” his father replied simply._

_Sarek furrowed his brow.  Would it harm culture to stop traveling over the desert?_

_Another flash of lightning drew his eyes upward again as he considered what his father said and weighed it against what his grandfather had told him.  Why was it necessary to continue the dangerous travel over the desert?  What did it mean to culture to continue doing so?  What would it mean to stop?_

_All of those questions were difficult for the seven-year-old, and he pondered them for the remainder of the brief flight to the great city._

_When the shuttle began its descent into Vulcana Regar Sarek stared at the glittering skyscrapers, taller and more numerous than those in ShirKahr.  He knew this city was where the embassies of other species were located, and he was hopeful of seeing an alien in person.  Though logically, he knew it was unlikely, as his family only planned to visit the home of…his intended._

_It was his bonding day.  His father had explained what he called the heritage of all vulcans to him in great detail.  Some of those details had nearly caused him to experience emotion.  But it was necessary, logical, and something which in fact unified all of his people._

_Perhaps there should not be a tunnel under The Forge._

_As the shuttle slowly descended and Sarek looked out at the unusually bright and lush scenery.  Trees and flowers that were clearly maintained professionally were planted around the courtyard of the private landing platform.  He watched as several people emerged from one of the large buildings nearby, including a child.  As the shuttle got closer to the ground he could see that it was a girl, who looked about his age._

_“Skon,” Sarek heard his mother say, “did you send a message to Solkar?”_

_“My wife,” Skon said in a tone Sarek recognized as reprimanding.  He had never heard his father speak to his mother in that way before, and looked between the faces of his parents._

_His mother’s expression was guarded, but her eyes seemed to be asking his father something.  His apparent answer was to reach his fingers out, and hers immediately met his above Sarek’s head._

_The young vulcan wondered what had been wrong with his mother’s question._

_The shuttle landed, and when the doors opened Sarek stepped boldly out onto the platform to meet the approaching group._

_He glanced first at the adults, two who appeared to be his parents’ ages and three others who were older.  But he only gave them a moment’s appraisal before fixing his eyes on the girl._

_Like many vulcan youths, she had yet to cut her hair and wore her long black locks twisted up on top of her head.  Her eyes were such a pale brown that they almost matched the color of desert sand.  And she wore a uniquely textured silvery dress._

_He stopped his approach as her eyes met his, and they stared at each other.  Her face was utterly still and void of emotion.  He thought his parents must have known how logical she was when choosing her._

_The adults joined their children and Sarek glanced up at the unfamiliar group again, who were looking at his parents.  A movement in the corner of his eyes drew his attention back to the girl, who had lifted her hand in salute._

_“Live long and prosper,” she greeted in an even tone._

_Sarek raised his hand in answer.  “Peace, and long life.  I am Sarek.”_

_“Sarek,” Skon said, and the boy reluctantly looked up at his father.  “This is Consul Suubar and his wife T’Krit.”_

_Sarek again lifted his hand as he looked up at the girl’s parents.  “Live long and prosper.”_

_The man identified as Consul Suubar folded his hands behind his back as he looked down at the boy.  Sarek noted that the man had the same ebon hair as his daughter.  He and his party were also clad in silvery attire.  It was a style of clothing Sarek was unfamiliar with._

_“Ambassador Solkar speaks well of you, young Sarek,” Suubar said._

_That was the second mention of Solkar, after his mother’s.  Sarek wondered if that was important._

_“Are you acquainted with my grandfather?” Sarek asked._

_“Logically, he must be,” the girl answered, “if he has heard him speak well of you.”_

_Sarek blinked.  The girl raised her chin slightly._

_“This is T’hur-Ayya,” Suubar said by way of introduction._

_Sarek lifted a single eyebrow.  “I am honored.”_

_The girl, T’hur-Ayya, did not respond, and none of the adults spoke.  Sarek glanced up at them again to find them all staring at him.  When he looked back at T’hur-Ayya she was also looking up at her parents._

_“Perhaps,” Sarek’s mother said, “we should let the children become acquainted before the ceremony.”_

_“That is well,” T’Krit acknowledged and then looked at her daughter.  “T’hur-Ayya, is there anything you would like to show Sarek?”_

_Sarek watched as the girl seemed to think.  “Come, I shall show you my preferred place for meditation.”_

_Sarek glanced up at his parents again, who nodded their assent.  He followed the girl away from the group of adults and into the large house._

_It was noticeably more modern than his family’s home in its architecture.  Much of the decor however, he noticed, was from more ancient times.  Her family apparently honored ancient tradition greatly, if her Golic name was any indication.  He also noted a great emphasis on the teachings of Surak, represented in framed quotations adorning various walls._

_T’hur-Ayya led him through the house to a courtyard behind the house that had a rather stifled view, due to the city around them.  However he could still see the mountains in the distance, beyond the skyscrapers._

_This courtyard also had bright green vegetation planted at the perimeter, and a tall fountain.  Beyond it he saw the low bench, table, and telltale lamp._

_When they reached the table, the girl stopped and turned to face him._

_“This is my preferred place of meditation,” she said, gesturing outward with both hands._

_“I would find it agreeable for myself,” Sarek said politely._

_T’hur-Ayya folded her hands behind her back as her father had done earlier._

_“Describe your preferred place to meditate,” she said._

_Sarek lifted an eyebrow.  Something about her manner seemed…odd._

_“I prefer to meditate in my room, next to the window.”_

_“Why next to the window?” she asked._

_“To experience the motion of the sun and the passing of time,” he explained.  “Sunrise is my favorite.”_

_“If you wish to experience the sun, why do you not meditate outside like I do?”_

_Her tone was even, but again Sarek thought something was odd in her manner.  He sensed…disapproval, somehow._

_“I also desire the solitude that four walls create.”_

_“Why?” she asked.  “Do you experience emotions that require hiding?”_

_Sarek’s eyes widened at the blunt accusation.  “I…no.  I do not.”_

_“Every member of my family has achieved_ kolinahr _,” she said, turning and walking slowly around the fountain.  Sarek looked up and noted the icon adorning the top of the fountain was the image of a katric ark.  “And when I am of age I shall go to Gol as well.”_

_“That…that is admirable,” Sarek said, still perplexed at her manner._

_“Will you go to Gol?” she asked, stopping and looking at him._

_Sarek blinked.  “I have not decided.”_

_“Why not?” she asked, approaching him again.  “To purge all emotion and achieve pure logic should be what every vulcan wants.”_

_She stopped less than a foot away from him, her amber eyes fixed on his._

_Sarek was tempted to step back, but that could suggest an emotional reaction—something she clearly would notice.  Instead he clasped his hands tightly behind his back as she had done, rubbing his thumbs over his fingers as he began to become uneasy._

_“I simply have not made decisions about my future,” Sarek finally said.  “The only certainty I have is that you will be my wife.”_

_T’hur-Ayya turned and walked away again, beyond the fountain.  After several seconds she stopped and turned to look at him over her shoulder._

_“What if I don’t want to be your wife?  What if I want to be a priestess instead?”_

_Sarek’s brow rose.  Could she do that?  “But…all vulcans must marry.”_

_“Logic can overcome biology,” she said, lifting her chin again._

Could it? _Sarek wondered.  Surely his father would have told him._

 _“If that is so…” he began carefully, “then why do not more people study_ kolinahr? _”_

_T’hur-Ayya frowned, and Sarek’s brow rose again._

_“I will be a_ kolinahr _master.  My mother is a descendent of the House of T’Klaas.”_

_Sarek was startled by her display of emotion, but thought it unwise to point it out to her._

_“My father…is a descendent of Surak,” he finally replied, not sure what to say to this unusual girl._

_“I know,” she said, walking away from him again.  “It is the only reason that I agreed to the betrothal.”_

_Sarek wished he could leave her and talk to his parents.  So far, his first meeting with his bride was not going well.  Despite having the common ground of their famous ancestry, she seemed completely unwilling to meet him there._

_“Perhaps when we are of age, we can study_ kolinahr _together,” he suggested._

_“You said you have not decided,” she said, leaning around the fountain to look at him._

_Sarek glanced away, into the falling waters of the fountain.  It was true, he hadn’t.  And he had blatantly lied before about something else—he was in fact_ very _certain of his desire to visit his grandfather on Earth.  But he sensed that somehow she would not approve of that._

 _“It would not be logical for only one of a couple to achieve_ kolinahr _.”_

_T’hur-Ayya raised her chin again and seemed to appraise him.  Then after a moment, she stepped close to him again._

_“Very well.  When we both achieve_ kolinahr _you may be my bond mate.”_

_Sarek noted her lexical choice.  “You mean we will married.  Today is our bonding day.”_

_He watched as she pursed her lips, very nearly frowning again.  Clearly, she was not interested in bonding with him.  Her behavior was in fact quite illogical.  But he dared not say so.  Instead, he opted for the safest of conversation topics._

_“I noticed many of the teachings of Surak displayed in your home.  Do you have a favorite?”_

_Their conversation continued much in the same manner, with Sarek being very cautious in his questions and answers and T’hur-Ayya continuing to attempt to display superiority.  After the teachings of Surak they discussed mathematics, and then physics.  The sun moved eight degrees in the sky as they talked, Sarek calculated, until both of their mothers suddenly appeared in the courtyard._

_“T’hur-Ayya, Sarek, are you ready for the ceremony?” his mother asked._

_Sarek nodded._

_“I trust you have become well-acquainted?” T’Krit asked, seeming to direct the question at him._

_“Yes,” he said, looking over at T’hur-Ayya.  She had raised her chin again and her face had returned to the total impassivity of when they first met._

_“Very well.  Everything is prepared inside,” T’Krit said.  He noted that she wore her hair in the old-style as well, long, and styled ornately atop her head._

_As the two children followed their mothers back inside the house, T’hur-Ayya leaned close to Sarek and lowered her voice to a whisper._

_“You_ do _know how to meld?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny._

_Sarek fought down the indignation he was beginning to feel toward his bride.  He hoped his family would return home after the ceremony so he could meditate.  If not, he might request a place to meditate in her home.  And he wouldn’t ask to use her favorite bench by the fountain._

_“It would not be logical to have travelled here if I do not,” he responded with a whisper of his own._

_She straightened, lifted her chin, and lengthened her stride so that she was walking ahead of him instead of beside him._

_The two women and his intended entered the house, but as Sarek reached the threshold he stopped.  Turning around, he looked back at the fountain.  He watched as the water fell from the top level, the droplets never falling the same way twice despite exiting the spout the same way.  And then on the bottom level, the molecules all coalesced into the rippling pool at the fountain’s base._

Chaos to order. _And yet, not even the ripples were identical in their motion despite having the same forces to guide them each time._ Chaos again _._

_Sarek did not want to bond with T’hur-Ayya.  He did not know why his parents had chosen her, but he did not want her to be his future wife._

_“Sarek,” his mother called him, and he turned and entered the unfamiliar house._

_“Mother—” he began, but stopped as he saw everyone gathered.  With his parents and T’hur-Ayya’s parents were her other three family members—likely her grandparents and great-grandmother—and now a priest, whom he recognized by the man’s ceremonial robes.  And they were all looking at him._

_“Mother.  Father.  May I speak with you privately?” he said, looking pointedly at them._

_“Can it wait until after the ceremony, my son?” Skon asked._

_He felt T’hur-Ayya’s eyes on him.  He didn’t want to look at her, thinking if he did he may betray some emotion, uncertain as she had made him of his control._

_“I would prefer to speak now,” he said._

_“Sarek,” his father said, “Consul Suubar must depart Vulcan within the hour.  It would be best to not delay.”_

_“And did you see that the consul prepared his home especially for this moment?” his mother said._

_Sarek had noticed, in fact.  The room was filled with accoutrements that he had only seen the likeness of once before, when he snuck across the bridge to his family’s ancient site of_ koon-ut-kal-if-fee. _Any vulcan entering this home would know that a bonding or marriage was to take place._

_But he no longer wanted to be part of it._

_Sarek hesitated, unsure how to respond.  T’hur-Ayya approached him until she was facing him.  Her eyes were demanding.  First, she did not want to bond.  Now she seemed to insist.  Sarek did not want this girl for his wife._

_“Father, it is important,” he finally said, looking up past T’hur-Ayya._

_Skon and his wife looked at one another.  Then they looked at Suubar and T’Krit._

_“If your son needs to ensure his readiness for the ceremony, it will be no imposition,” Suubar said._

_Skon nodded in acknowledgement, and then turned toward his son.  Sarek led his parents back outside and all the way to the other side of the fountain, hoping the sound of the moving water would prevent them from being overheard._

_“What is it, Sarek?” his mother asked._

_“I do not want to bond with T’hur-Ayya,” he said._

_His parents looked at each other slowly, and then back at him._

_“Why not?” his mother asked._

_“She is…emotional,” Sarek said._

_At this, his parents both raised their brows._

_“In what way?” his father asked._

_“She has displayed arrogance, and…other emotions which I do not understand,” he said._

_“Are you certain, my son?” Skon asked._

_“Yes, Father.”_

_Skon looked again at his wife, who had seemed to accept Sarek’s word without question._

_“Can we cancel the ceremony?” she asked._

_Skon did not seem as certain as his wife.  “She is still a child.  Some children need more time to learn to control their emotions than others.”_

_“She should have already learned by her age.”_

_Skon looked down at Sarek again.  “My son, the consul and his wife specifically asked if their daughter could be your bond mate.  They did not make the request to any other family.”_

_Sarek was surprised to hear that, though based on what T’hur-Ayya had said he shouldn’t have been.  “I do not believe she wants to bond with me either.”_

_Sarek’s parents looked at each other again._

_“Should we speak with Suubar and his wife?” his mother asked._

_Skon looked at Sarek.  “Do you believe T’hur-Ayya would wish the ceremony cancelled?”_

_The boy looked at the fountain again.  “I am not certain.”_

_Sarek glanced away and watched the fountain again, listening to the rush of the water.  In a world that was naturally full of chaos, how was logic to thrive?_

_“My son, Consul Suubar works with your grandfather on Earth.”_

_Sarek looked up._

_“They have spent much time discussing the possibility of your bonding with T’hur-Ayya.  They believe it will be favorable.”_

_“Skon,” his mother said, and his father looked at her quickly like he had on the shuttle._

_Sarek realized he was not being told everything about the circumstances._

_“There was a time when you needed guidance in controlling your emotions, Sarek,” Skon continued.  “Perhaps with the bond, your logic will strengthen hers.”_

_Sarek wondered what it was that his mother wanted to say but his father would not allow, and what it had to do with his grandfather._

_“It will be best to proceed with the ceremony, my son.”_

_Sarek was still uneasy.  But, unease was an emotion.  It could be that his father was right about his bride needing more time to learn to control her emotions._

_“All right,” he said.  He walked back to the house with his parents on either side of him._

_As they entered the room, the others looked at him again.  T’hur-Ayya stood in the center of the room, a large vessel of shining black stones from which flames rose on the low table next to her._

_Sarek approached her and noted her stolid expression, the same as when they had met on the landing pad and when her mother had come to get them on the patio._

_He realized she was fully capable of controlling her emotions._

_“Are you ready now?” she asked, when he finally stood across from her._

_“Yes,” he said, nodding._

_The priest approached them and stood next to the table, beginning the ceremony._

_Sarek didn’t pay much attention as he had researched it all before.  Despite his desire to respect tradition as his grandfather had taught him, his uncertainty about T’hur-Ayya was distracting him._

_She was watching the priest with the blank eyes she affected whenever adults were present, her posture erect and her bearing solemn._

_Why was she so contradictory?  Why did she profess a passion for the ways of Surak but display emotion the next moment?_

_“_ Koon’ul, _” the priest said, looking down and rousing Sarek from his thoughts.  He knew what he was supposed to do._

_Reaching across the flaming rocks, he carefully set two fingers together on T’hur-Ayya’s temple until they were positioned just right.  She closed her eyes._

_As he reached into her mind the heat rising from the rocks seemed to transform—something he had never felt before in a meld—into a fire that began to churn his blood.  Green flames danced behind his eyes as a yearning to delve into her mind overtook his thoughts.  But the conduit he had formed was thin and threadlike, and he felt something pushing back at him._

_“Sarek?” he heard a familiar voice—he wasn’t sure whose—somewhere.  He realized the bonding must be taking too long._

_He increased his effort to enter T’hur-Ayya’s mind and she suddenly opened her eyes and fixed her amber gaze on his._

_He knew it then.  She was resisting._

Pretend, _he heard her insistent voice in his mind._

Duplicitous girl, _he said back to her, and her eyes narrowed._

_“Sarek?” he heard again somewhere, more distant this time._

_Now she was fighting him outright, but he would not accede.  She was his bride.  This was the vulcan way._

I will not belong to you! _she screamed._

_A sudden pain shocked him out of the meld, and his fingers fell from her face.  He blinked as he recovered his breathing, uncertain of what he had just experienced.  Never had a mind meld been painful to him before._

Father said it would not hurt...

_T’hur-Ayya was having difficulty masking her emotions, and looked down as she schooled her features._

_“Is she all right?” Sarek heard Suubar asking._

_“There was difficulty in making the connection,” the priest said.  “I shall assist.”_

_Sarek looked up at the man, and then over the flames at T’hur-Ayya.  She had calmed herself, but her posture was stiff._

You are mine, _Sarek spoke through the thready link he had created, the green flames still clouding his vision._

_Her eyes narrowed again._

_The large hand of the priest suddenly blocked his gaze, and Sarek closed his eyes as he felt the mind of the priest touching his._

_Just as quickly, T’hur-Ayya was brought into the meld._

_“Now, finish creating the bond,” Sarek heard the priest say.  He set his two fingers on T’hur-Ayya’s temple and again felt the strange fire in his blood._

_An outside strength was pushing him onwards this time, and he effortlessly reached into T’hur-Ayya’s mind and securely established the conduit.  Like the eruptions of Mt. Seleya that poured destructive fury down on the ancient vulcans, he sent the liquid fire across the conduit and as deep into her mind as he could reach._

_Suddenly he felt resistance of a different kind, and he realized the priest was holding him back.  He opened his eyes and looked at T’hur-Ayya.  Had he hurt her?  He didn’t want to hurt her.  She was his bride._

_He felt control returning to him, and he was able to calm the fire.  His vision cleared, and when T’hur-Ayya opened her eyes and looked at him, he knew he had been successful.  He could feel her in his mind as surely as he knew his own mind.  And it would always be so.  For this was the vulcan way, that two minds—the greatest part of each other—should come together as one.  And when the time came they would join in body, helping each other throughout their lives as it was meant to be for all vulcans._

_“_ Kah-ka, _” the priest said as he disengaged from them, and the meld was broken._

_The ceremony finished with the promise of each child’s parents to continue to train them in the ways of Surak until such time as they could help each other._

_Sarek wondered how many years it would be before he and T’hur-Ayya were formally married.  Some couples married as soon as each had completed the_ tal-oth _.  Others waited until they had finished school or until they had attained employment, and others yet waited for…for_ pon farr _._

_T’hur-Ayya looked up at him.  She looked far less confident in herself than she had seemed before their bond._

_Sarek wondered again if he had hurt her.  He would ask her when they were alone._

_“We will not delay your travels, Consul,” his mother was saying to Suubar._

_“Inform us of the next time you are on Vulcan and we will host your household on my forefather’s lands,” Skon said._

_Sarek wondered if all of the ceremonial talk was necessary.  But as his grandfather had told him, tradition was their heritage._

_Suubar and T’Krit escorted them outside to their waiting shuttle.  The sun was high in the sky now and would cast interesting shadows in his room, but Sarek thought he might try meditating outside when they arrived home.  There may be different forms of stimulation that enhanced his focus._

_As he had hoped, the adults gave he and T’hur-Ayya a moment alone before he boarded the shuttle._

_They hadn’t communicated since the ceremony.  And different than before, she wasn’t affecting a stoic mask when her parents were present.  Now, she was looking at him with undisguised uncertainty._

_He raised his hand in salute.  “‘We have differences.  May we, together, become greater than the sum of both of us,’” Sarek quoted.  “I look forward to our next meeting, T’hur-Ayya.”_

_He heard a word in his mind that caused him to raise his brow._

_“T’Rea…  You prefer your name in the modern tongue.”_

_Her eyes narrowed and she raised her chin, lowering her voice before she spoke.  “It does not matter that we are bonded.  You are not worthy of me.”_

_Sarek was stunned.  “T’Rea…”_

_“Do not address me informally.  I will never be your wife.  And I do not care about the bond.  I will achieve pure logic despite this…inconvenience.”_

 

 

 

 

A repeated _chirp_ caused Sarek to suddenly wake from his slumber.  He glanced around and found that he had fallen asleep in one of the chairs in the observation lounge.

His meditation lamp was still burning strong on the table before him, and he blew it out before standing to straighten his robes and find his communicator—the source of the chirping.

“This is Sarek,” he said when he had located and activated it.

“Consul,” Soran’s voice sounded quietly through the device, “your meeting with Ambassador Tos was supposed to begin ten minutes ago.”

Sarek quickly gathered the lamp and his other things in one hand and began quickly striding down the sunlit corridor toward the turbolift.

“I fell asleep while meditating.  I will be there soon.”

“Consul I must inform you—” Soran began, but Sarek closed the communicator and pocketed it as he entered the turbolift.

It was extremely irresponsible and a shocking lack of control to fall asleep while meditating—especially in the morning.

He returned to his suite to deposit his meditation materials, assess his appearance, and obtain his notes for the meeting.  In less than a minute he was walking briskly back toward the ambassadorial offices.

As he went he thought of the unpleasant memories which he had dreamed in such vivid detail.  If only he had known at seven years of age that T’Rea’s words would be practically prophetic.  His life may be very different now if he had only refused to bond.

He arrived at the antechamber to the ambassadorial offices and entered with his code.  Soran was standing inside near the door.

“Consul, I must tell you—”

Soran was cut off by the opening of the office door.  But instead of Ambassador Tos, it was Suubar who stepped out to meet them.

“Sarek, you are late.”

Sarek looked at Soran, whose eyes communicated apology.

“I have an appointment with Ambassador Tos,” Sarek said.

“Unfortunately the Ambassador was called away.  But I adjusted my schedule to accommodate you,” Suubar explained.

Sarek’s fingers gripped the edge of his PADD more tightly for a moment before relaxing.

“Very well,” Sarek said, stepping forward with Soran close behind.

“Your aide need not attend.  I read your message to Ambassador Tos.  This will not take long.”

Sarek and Soran both stopped, and Sarek clenched his jaw as he refused to give Suubar the satisfaction of looking back.

“Surely you have many unfinished tasks that he could perform with ease?” Suubar said.

Sarek slowly released his breath through his nose and turned around to face Soran.

“Continue your work on the comparative histories of space exploration by Earth and Tellar.  If you complete the outline, attempt to contact Ambassador Archer and set up a meeting.  I am willing to travel.”

“Yes, Consul,” Soran said, handing Sarek his PADD.

Sarek watched the man leave the antechamber, the door sliding closed behind him.

“Step inside, Sarek,” he heard Suubar say, and turned to meet his father-in-law’s gaze.  “It has been too long since we spoke alone.”

 

 


	12. Stratagem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sarek meets with Suubar, and we get more insight into their relationship.
> 
> I have to go back to work again (schoolteacher), so updates will slow down. I'll try to write a chapter a week at least. I already have another just about ready.

 

 

Sarek stood in the center of the office, waiting for Suubar to take his seat as protocol dictated.  But the older vulcan did not sit.

His was beginning to show his age in the wrinkles around his eyes, and his cheekbones had become more sallow.  His hair showed hints of grey at the temples and behind his ears, and it appeared thinner as well.  The heavy ambassadorial robes he wore made his gaunt figure appear even smaller, but he still held himself with calculated poise.

The man’s countenance had seemed stern when Sarek met him at the tender age of seven, but now his mouth seemed locked into a perpetual frown.  But to any non-vulcan looking at him, the expression would be undetectable.

The man raised his chin slightly in all-too-familiar gesture.

“Are you unwell, Sarek?”

“No, Ambassador,” the younger vulcan replied.  He very nearly lied and said he had been in deep meditation, but he didn’t know what Soran had said after the comm call.

He wondered when, if ever, being in his father-in-law’s presence would stop inciting him to illogical actions.

“Perhaps your duties should be lessened if you are unable to meditate constructively,” Suubar continued.

Sarek tightened his grip on the PADDs again.  “My duties do not interfere with my meditations.”

He hoped Suubar would stop there.  The man had an uncanny ability of striking right at his barely-suppressed emotions.

“Then perhaps it is these indulgent activities in which you are partaking that are the source of your difficulty?”

Sarek’s brow rose slightly.  “‘Indulgent activities?’”

“This business you wished to discuss with Ambassador Tos about curricular issues,” Suubar explained, finally walking over to his desk and taking his seat.  Sarek likewise sat in the chair across from the desk.  He couldn’t help but notice that this chair was at least four centimeters shorter than the one Suubar sat in.  “Why would you desire to waste his time with such nonsense?”

Sarek held the PADDs tightly in his lap.  At least now he had an opening to talk professionally instead of personally.  “You recall your suggestion that a review be done of Starfleet Academy’s curricula regarding Earth-Vulcan relations?”

For once, Suubar said nothing.

Sarek continued.  “I have done so, in addition to reviewing the curricula of the compound and various Earth schools, with the assistance of Ambassador Archer.  There seem to be isolated trends of xenophobia regarding certain historical events.”

Suubar folded his hands atop the table.  “Explain.”

“There are repeated themes of partiality toward a single cultural and political viewpoint, with the apparent goal being to instill negative bias of one species against the other.  Rather than drawing the principles of IDIC from recent history, it appears that racial chauvinism is the intent.”

Suubar’s only response was to pause, and tap his index finger twice against the surface of the desk.

“Elaborate,” the ambassador finally said.

Sarek consulted the PADD that Soran had given him with the notes Archer and Talla had been sending him.  “In multiple Earth schools, teachers have been documented telling their students that Vulcans sought and continue to seek to suppress humans.  In some more extreme incidents it has been reported that teachers tell their pupils that humanity will need to rid itself of vulcan influence before they can join the galactic community.   Alternatively, testimony has been given that the compound’s instructors specifically refer to interactions with humanity as attempts to enlighten them that have failed for their bold resistance to logic.  In these lessons humans are portrayed as inferior.”

Suubar cocked his head to one side, but the rest of his face remained impassive.  “I see no flaw in the teaching of the compound instructors.”

Sarek looked up quickly at Suubar’s pronouncement.  Did he truly believe that?

“Su—  Ambassador…” Sarek began carefully.  He knew a differing opinion would be deliberately misinterpreted as challenge.  But his father-in-law was still a vulcan.  Surely he would listen to logic?

“Is it not illogical to claim a species as inferior simply because they are at a different stage of their development?”

Suubar lifted his chin and appraised Sarek.  “Have you encountered any species with our intellectual capacity?”

Sarek was stunned at the question.  The bigotry the man was implying was unheard of in vulcans.  Sarek didn’t know what else to do but answer the question.

“I have encountered individuals of high intelligence from several species.”

“The tellarites?” Suubar asked.

Sarek glanced down.  He could not claim that tellarites were as intellectually endowed as vulcans.  But then something occurred to him and he looked up.

“My own deficiencies have prevented me from yet ascertaining the potential of the tellarites.”

Suubar’s eyes narrowed.  “Your deficiencies?”

“My failure to completely embrace their diversity.  The tellarites, moreso than other species, are motivated by emotion.  As I have limited experience with emotion I cannot yet fully comprehend them.  When I better understand the relationship between tellarite emotions and rational thought, I can provide a more accurate description of their capacity.”

Sarek thought it had been a well-chosen statement.  He even acknowledged his own imperfection, which he thought might distract Suubar.  Unfortunately however, he had failed to factor in the ambassador’s hatred.

“‘Limited experience with emotion?’  Sarek, now you are lying.  Are you certain this assignment is not beyond your capabilities?”

Sarek felt his body betray him with an increase of his heart rate and a rush of blood to his cheeks.  Or rather, it was his mind that had betrayed him, since it did not have mastery over his body.

 _My experiences with emotion are all tied to you,_  he wanted to say.  But he would condemn his career if he entered into an open conflict with Suubar.  He held his tongue.

Suubar rose from his seat and walked around the desk until he was behind Sarek.  “It is in fact your flawed understanding of our philosophy that has led to your lack of aptitude in diplomatic areas.”

Sarek flinched under the harsh words and was grateful that Suubar could not see his face.

“Are you aware of the complaints against you since your arrival?” the older vulcan continued.

Sarek turned in his chair to look up at the ambassador.  “Complaints?”

“Quite severe, in fact.  If not for my intervention you may have lost your position already.  And you still might if you continue in these illogical pursuits.”

“What complaints?” Sarek repeated.

“From nearly every student in the upper division, and from the teacher.  They submitted numerous correlating reports of your disloyal statements regarding our people.”

Sarek slowly turned so he was facing the desk again.  This was unexpected.  

“I…wish to see these complaints,” Sarek said slowly.  He remembered the lecture with Archer and Talla clearly.  And though in retrospect, he supposed Archer could have discussed Terra Prime more as Talla had suggested, they had offered a cohesive and forward-looking opinion.

But had it been only that?  Opinion?

“I shall attempt to procure them, but they had to be sealed for your protection.  You must cease your attempts to interfere with the education system.”

Sarek thought again to Archer’s reports, and the firsthand accounts from Amanda Grayson.  It suddenly occurred to him—if these complaints had truly been made, why had the human girl not mentioned them to him?

He turned to face Suubar again, who was looking down at him with a calculating gaze.

…Could this be a deception?

He turned away to face the desk again and stared down at his own hands.  His logic could not function in this man’s presence.

“How is my grandson?” Suubar suddenly changed the subject.

Sarek thought of his young son, protected in his parents’ home on Vulcan.  He was of the age now that he would begin his dance classes.

“He is well,” Sarek said quietly.  In truth, he had not contacted his mother since leaving for Earth.  But he had entrusted the child to her care and there was no logical reason for communication outside of what they had scheduled.

“Are you monitoring his education?” Suubar continued.

“Yes,” Sarek said, since his mother gave him regular updates at their monthly communication.

Sarek felt the ambassador lean down, and the next question was spoken just above his ear.  “Did he recognize you when you took leave before coming here?”

Sarek closed his eyes and the memory replayed through his mind, of the child toddling into the great room with his mother close behind, guarding his steps…

 

 

_“Sybok, how will you greet your father?” his mother asked._

_The child looked at him with penetrating eyes, so like those of T’Rea, and then looked back up at his mother._

_“Sybok, show your father what you have learned,” his mother persisted._

“Sa-mekh?” _the child asked, his small, soft brows furrowing in confusion._

_“Yes.  You remember your father,” she continued, guiding the child forward until he leaned against the sofa._

_Sarek gazed into the eyes of the boy who looked back at him with an expression that reminded him of T’Rea’s at their first meeting.  Appraising, and analyzing.  And his son was not yet two._

_“Sybok, how will you greet your father?” his mother reminded the child._

_Finally, the boy blinked.  “What is your name?” he asked, the high-pitched voice ripe with curiosity, but cautious with logic._

_“My name is Sarek…my son,” he answered slowly._

_The boy lifted his chubby fingers into the_ ta’al _.  “Live long and prosper, Sarek,” he said, and then walked around the table and to the other sofa where Solkar was seated.  “What is your name?” he addressed the aged vulcan._

_“Solkar.  I am your second forefather, Sybok.”_

_This was in fact their first meeting.  The small boy lifted his hand in salute and repeated the greeting as he had done with Sarek.  Then he toddled back to Sarek’s mother and looked up at her.  “Are there other visitors I can greet?”_

_“There is no one else here, Sybok,” his mother explained._

_Sybok looked back at the men on the sofas, and then turned to go back to his room._

_“Sybok, why don’t you spend some time with your father and great-grandfather?”_

_“I want to play,” Sybok said, not even looking back._

 

 

Sarek knew it was illogical and dared not reveal it to Suubar, but he had experienced emotion when his son showed no interest in him.  He had hoped that after the utter failure of a marriage that had dominated his early adulthood he could find redemption in raising T’Rea’s son.

But Suubar and his wife seemed determined to not allow him that satisfaction either.

Suddenly, he realized he had not seen T’Krit at any of the formal functions since his arrival.  He turned to look up at Suubar.

“Where is your wife?”

Suubar turned suddenly and walked several paces away, and Sarek rose from the chair.  He thought it may be wise to contact his mother at his earliest convenience, even though their scheduled communication was not for over two weeks.

“She is in Vulcana Regar.  She completed her assignment in T’Paal.”

Sarek looked into the other man’s face for evidence of what he suspected.

“When will her next assignment begin?” Sarek asked.

“She has not yet received one.”

Sarek took a step toward the older man and folded his hands in front of his middle.

“Is that not unusual?”

“She is considering retirement,” Suubar said.

The two men regarded each other, both understanding fully the implications of that statement.  If T’Krit retired, she would be able to share in Sybok’s care.  Sarek had not explicitly stated that he did not want either of them involved with his son’s upbringing, but he knew that they knew it was his intent to limit their contact with the boy.

And Sarek knew it was their intent to take Sybok away from him.

“Will you inform Ambassador Tos about my research?” Sarek asked.

Suubar inhaled slowly.  “No,” he said.

Sarek’s brow rose.

“And you must cease your investigations immediately.  Your reputation has already suffered due to your…thoughtless actions.”

Sarek steepled his hands in front of him, his fingers pointing forward.  “It would be illogical to blindly trust that our core philosophies are being adequately communicated when evidence has been raised to the contrary.”

“Your poor understanding of IDIC and spreading false ideals to our youth is the greater harm.  You have already lost favor among many in the consulate.  I cannot guarantee your position if you continue.  You will cease your inquiries immediately and focus solely on currying favor with the tellarite delegation.”

Sarek flexed his fingertips, keeping them together.  Suubar lowered his chin and narrowed his eyes.

“Is that understood, _Consul?_ ”

Sarek flexed his fingers again.  “Yes, Ambassador.”

Suubar stepped next to the door, and Sarek eagerly accepted the invitation to leave.

He exited the office and the antechamber and walked briskly back in the direction of his suite.  As he went, he noted a sudden increase in his heart rate and a slight feeling of disorientation.  The environment seemed to blur slightly in his vision as he passed, no matter how he tried to focus.

He stopped and placed his hand on a wall to steady himself.

Closing his eyes, images of T’Rea came to him unbidden, and the fury in her final words to him before Sybok’s birth…

He opened his eyes and focused on the bland, grey carpet.  He did not want to engage with those memories.

The sound of a door opening and closing drew his focus, and he quickly straightened.

At the far end of the hallway he saw the young human, Amanda Grayson, approaching quickly.  But her bearing was different than he had ever seen.  Her head was down and her shoulders hunched, and her arms were wrapped tightly around her midsection and the PADD she carried.

And her hair was styled differently, in a simple bun on the back of her head.

He removed his hand from the wall as she came closer.  He realized it was vanity, but chose to blame it on his physical state.

_Denial…_

He ignored his thoughts and focused on the human’s approach.  She did not seem to realize he was present as she quickly walked the hall, and when she was nearly past him she suddenly gasped and stopped, looking up.

“Consul!  I—  Forgive me, I didn’t see you.”

Sarek studied her face.  She looked worried.  And the telltale dilation of the capillaries of her eyes indicated some physical distress, likely related to her emotions.

He had thought to ask her about the supposed complaints against him, but judging from her appearance he realized it may not be the wisest choice.  He had never seen her display emotion so openly before.

“Miss Grayson.  Are you…all right?” he asked tentatively.

She blinked, clearly startled by the question.  “I…”

He watched as tears began to pool in her eyes, and the muscles of her throat and shoulders tightened with her struggle to control her emotions.

“I’m sorry.  Please, excuse me,” she said, and lowering her head again she ran past him and around the corner.

Sarek listened until he could no longer hear her footsteps on the carpet, wondering what had disturbed her so.  Until that moment, he would have described her as the most emotionless human he had met.  But clearly she was as susceptible to them as any of her species.

_Just as I am…_

Focusing his vision on the carpet again, he regulated his breathing until he felt his body rhythms normalize.  He continued back to his suite where he intended to sit on his balcony to meditate.  The perpetually chilled breeze would prevent his accidentally falling asleep again.  And he intended to meditate for at least the rest of the day.

The tellarites would have to wait.

 

 


	13. The Beginning of Understanding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I'm ba~ck! Here's an extra-long chapter of apology for the several-months delay.
> 
> See, here's how it goes every year. I'm a schoolteacher. I write fervently during the winter holiday breaks from school, then get too busy to continue when I go back to work. That's what happens every single year. (And in the case of my other unfinished fics, a hard drive crash has them trapped in limbo.)
> 
> I haven't forgotten any of my fics. I have the documents open on my computer at all times. Anyway, enough of me prattling. On with the story!

 

 

Earth skies were very different than those on Vulcan.  The spectral purity of the colors was quite pleasing to his eye, and as his shuttle descended he formulated an equation based on his rate of descent to identify the angles at which the light was being scattered.

Even after landing, despite the change in particle density in the atmosphere, the colors were still more pure than those on his home planet.  He took up his bag and exited the shuttle.

Vulcan would always be dusty.  And Earth was now reaping aesthetic benefits in addition to practical ones with their elimination of fossil fuels.

Sarek lifted his bag and walked toward the andorian who was approaching him.  If his memory was correct, the aide’s name was Jolin.

“Welcome to Cincinnati, Consul,” the blue-skinned man greeted him.  His eyes were alert, like all andorians, and his expression cautious.  This man’s eyes though also displayed trust, which Sarek knew was due to Archer’s own personal trust in him.  “The ambassador is looking forward to seeing you.”

“As I an anticipating meeting with him,” Sarek replied.

Unlike a vulcan aide, the andorian did not automatically reach for Sarek’s bag.  He chose not to offer it.

“The ambassador wants to know if you’re up to having dinner with him tonight, or if you would prefer to wait until tomorrow.”

“I will be pleased to dine with him this evening.”

“You can select the time.  The ambassador cleared his schedule until tomorrow afternoon’s lecture in order to meet with you,” the andorian continued.

“I am honored,” Sarek said, though he knew Archer would wave away the sentiment.  “One hour from now should be sufficient, if it is agreeable to the ambassador,” Sarek answered the question.  A brief meditation in the new environment would help prepare him for anything he may encounter.

Already, he noted that while the air was still clean it held a heaviness in comparison to the salty air of Sausalito.  But as he looked around at the city, illuminated in mauve by the setting sun, he felt a sensation of freshness.

Perhaps…it was being separated from his people.

Jolin escorted him to his hotel and assured him he would contact him with the dinner arrangements once they were made.  Once alone, and having examined his environment, Sarek retrieved his lamp and a cushion from his luggage and began his meditation.

Lighting the lamp, he knelt down and placed the pillow on his calves, against the back of his knees.  He shifted his weight until comfortable and began staring at the small flame.

He slowed and deepened his breathing, focusing on the feeling of the air entering and exiting his body.  He followed its path, in through his nose and down into the bottom of his lungs, gradually filling them to the top, and then releasing through his lips.

He placed his fingertips together and raised his hands before him until the flame was situated at the peak of his fingers in his sight.

As he measured his breathing, he began to imagine his lungs filling with light.  He imagined the flame as the source of that light—a single thought, illuminated, by his will.

He spent time simply counting his breaths and envisioning the light filling his lungs.

After twenty-seven breaths, he allowed his mind to wander.

The first thing he thought of was the crisis on Andoria.

As near as their scientists were able to discover, a dark-matter rogue planet had entered the Andorian system and collided with the seventh planet, obliterating it.  The debris from the gas giant was now in cloudy orbit around the binary star system, but the destruction was beginning to have effects on the small, inhabited homeworld of the ice-dwellers.

Temperatures were gradually, but steadily rising.  And as all of the cities and technologies of the Andorians was designed for living under ice, panic was beginning to spread among the people.

If the surface melting continued, the cities could eventually be crushed or drowned.  And they had no protocols for a disaster of that nature; all of their emergency plans involved further freezing.

When Sarek and Archer had been recalled, a team of Federation scientists along with cultural and political representatives had been dispatched to assist.  And Solkar, of course, had been one of them.

In the time Sarek had spent on Andoria, he had come to appreciate the fortitude of the species.  They were not unlike his own people, who had faced a desert of a different kind in the development of their civilization.  For millennia of work to be lost would be a tragedy, and Sarek would grieve.

As he was considering this, his thoughts turned to the old conflict between the two peoples—andorians, and vulcans.

Two species, so remarkably similar in their cultural development based on the hardships they had to overcome.  And so different in their social and philosophical development.

And yet still, they were similar.  While vulcans had chosen logic as their source of strength and perseverance, the andorians had chosen passion.  And it was in fact the magnitude of the obstacles they had overcome that fostered the inherent caution of both species.

How unfortunate that caution had collapsed into mistrust.

Sarek’s hope was that the Federation would bring lasting reforms in the way all species saw one another, but, his recent discoveries on Earth seemed to indicate it would be a long process of change.

After thirty minutes, Sarek stopped and put away his lamp and cushion.

He spent the remaining time reviewing the information that he had gathered and that Archer had sent him over the past several weeks in preparation for their meeting.

Both Archer’s and Sarek’s schedules had not allowed them to meet for over a week from the time he first requested it.  In the interim Sarek had devoted his efforts to gaining favor with the tellarites as he had been instructed and was making slow, but definite progress.

And in his personal hours, he continued researching the education problem.  

While it was not logical to defy a superior, Suubar’s denial of the obvious issues was the greater demonstration of illogic.

Unless Suubar was one of those who believed that vulcans were superior to other races.  And based on his comments during their brief meeting earlier in the month, Sarek thought it could be possible.

Five minutes before his requested hour was completed, Jolin arrived to escort Sarek to dinner.  He guided him to the hotel’s restaurant, where the familiar figure of Archer waited with his other aide.

The man appeared unchanged from their last interaction.  In comparison to a vulcan in their twilight years, Archer would have been considered frail.  But for a human his wellness was almost inexplicable.

“Sarek,” the old man smiled when he saw him, “it’s good to see you.”

Sarek acknowledged the greeting with a nod.  “You are well?”

“Should I not be?”

Sarek was accustomed to, but still could not anticipate Archer’s unique sense of humor.

The human laughed at what apparently must have been Sarek’s facial expression, and then turned to his ever-vigilant blue-skinned companions.

“You two go take a break.  I want to spend some time with Sarek.”

One of the andorians looked uneasy, and the other perturbed, if Sarek understood his expression.

“You will call us if you need anything?”

“Thras.  Stop worrying about me,” Archer said with an impatient smile.

The andorian he had addressed frowned reproachfully, but turned to leave.  Jolin moved to follow, but first he looked pointedly at Sarek, who raised an eyebrow in response.  He supposed they expected him to be watchful of Archer, but of what specifically he did not know.

When the andorians were out of earshot, he looked over the elderly human critically.

“For what reason are your aides worried?”

Archer grimaced.  “Just because I’m getting old.”

The human leaned on his cane as he turned, and Sarek stood beside him as they slowly entered the restaurant.

“If I am not mistaken,” Sarek said, “you have surpassed the average human lifespan by several decades.”

Archer looked up at him with a grin.  “Your people are rubbing off on me.”

Sarek lifted a single eyebrow as he turned to meet the man’s gaze.  “Why would my people…rub something on you?”

Archer threw back his head in a loud laugh, causing the heads of a few patrons and the restaurant’s host to turn.

“I’ve missed your sense of humor.”

Once they were seated and their meals ordered, Archer folded his hands and rested his elbows on the table.

“So.  How are you doing?”

Sarek again lifted an eyebrow.  “I am in good health.”

“What about your….father-in-law?  Ex-father-in-law?  Do you maintain relationships with relatives-in-law on Vulcan when a spouse dies?”

Sarek sighed silently.  “Relationships on Vulcan are logical.”

Archer blinked and leaned back, taking his elbows off the table.

“Sorry.”

Sarek nodded in acceptance of the apology, but realized there was a logical reason to share some of his personal difficulties with Archer.

“I find myself at a disadvantage in our joint venture as a result of my relationship with Ambassador Suubar.  I believe it is clouding my judgment.”

Archer looked surprised.  “How so?”

Sarek relayed the conversation he and Suubar had had about the education issues, and the fact that Suubar had deliberately diverted him from speaking with Ambassador Tos.  

The human lifted his folded hands to rest his chin on them, and began alternately squeezing and loosening his boney fingers.

“I don’t think you’re wrong,” Archer finally said.  “Either he’s prejudiced, or he’s involved.”

At that moment their meal arrived, and they paused in their discussion until the waitress had left them.

Sarek immediately noticed a pungent smell coming from Archer’s dish, and wondered what spice or condiment on the human’s ‘chicken-fried steak’ was responsible.

“But that’s why I’m glad you called when you did,” Archer said after swallowing his first bite.

His tone caused Sarek to look up from his plate, and the human lowered his voice deliberately so only vulcan ears could hear.

“I think there’s a conspiracy against the Federation.”

Sarek blinked once, and then began on his meal.

It made sense.  In the week and a half following his meeting with Suubar, the ambassador had somehow managed to prevent him from arranging a single private meeting with Tos or even Vanak.  When he wasn’t on a tellarite assignment, he would be given something menial that even a junior aide could handle.  But if he tried to pass it off he was told usually by Soleck that Suubar had insisted that it required his personal attention.

And the clear threat Suubar had made against his position made him wary of openly defying him.

“I want to gather more information before going to the president,” Archer continued in the same whisper between bites.  “I sent Talla to investigate in the major cities of the south.  I’m going to keep on the same schedule.  And I’ll have some of my former staff investigate on the other continents.”

“What would you have me do?” Sarek asked quietly, not taking his eyes from his food.

“Keep going on the vulcan side of this.  It could just be a revival of Terra Prime, or some new ultranationalist group.  Or it might be that several species are involved.”

Sarek glanced up as he took a drink of water.  “Do you have a date when you would like me to have completed my research?”

“After I finish my lecture tour, in ten days.  I’ve already arranged a meeting with the president, but he thinks it’s just a social call.”

Archer chewed another bite of steak and washed it down with a drink.

“So,” he said in a louder voice, smiling now, “how’s it going with the tellarites?”

They finished their dinner talking about less sensitive topics, such as how to match wits with a race that argues for argument’s sake, and then Archer invited Sarek to his room for a stronger drink.

Sarek obliged, wondering if Archer would choose to share from his private collection of andorian liqueurs, which was renowned in the ambassadorial circles.

“Have you been in communication with Andoria?” Sarek asked, once installed on Archer’s sofa.

He noted the visible bones of Archer’s spine showing through his shirt as the man bent to access a case propped against the wall.  Moments later, the man did indeed produce a bottle of the telltale blue spirit, as well as a bottle of golden liquid.

“Pick your poison,” Archer said.

“Brandy,” Sarek replied without thought, choosing the beverage from his planet.

“I’m never going to get you to try this stuff, am I?” Archer sighed, smiling as he poured their respective glasses.

What Archer didn’t know, was that Sarek had tried andorian ale once during his two-year assignment to the ice planet.  As he still believed, part of IDIC was demonstrating by example that cultural practices could be shared, even if not fully embraced.

In retrospect, Sarek realized that his experience with the ale had likely prepared him for suffering the saurian brandy he’d had with the tellarites.

He sipped lightly from his snifter as Archer carefully sat in an armchair to his left.

“I spoke with Shran three days ago,” the human finally answered his question, “but I haven’t talked to Solkar or Soval.”

“Has the ambassador’s health improved?” 

Archer nodded, but grimaced.  “The warming sure isn’t helping.  His doctors restricted him to light duty since he refuses to retire.  He’s as mad as a nausicaan with a tusk-ache.”

“Are they any closer to a solution?”

Archer’s gaze fell to his blue drink.  “I’m afraid not.”

Sarek thought about the ice-planet and its people, to whom Archer had given so many years of service.  While many of Andoria’s people were escaping, part of them would be lost forever.  Memory and tradition only sustain for so long without the foundations of their integrity to confirm them.

 

 

_Pain._

_It distracted him from his meditation.  At first it had simply been an irritation that came and went, much like a blood-feeding flying insect trying to find a meal._

_But now Sarek was certain.  It was pain that he felt._

_He extinguished his lamp and rose from his posture carefully, mindful of the slight disorientation the pain was causing each time it flared._

_It originated from deep within his mind, from a place that felt as though it should be familiar and that he should understand, but that was somehow closed off._

_“Father,” he called, upon entering the great room of his family’s home._

_A moment later Skon entered from another doorway._

_“Yes, Sarek?” he asked.  His expression suggested to Sarek that his call had already communicated distress._

_“I am experiencing pain within my mind.  It is causing some physical disorientation,” Sarek explained as he suddenly became dizzy.  He steadied himself against the doorframe._

_Skon quickly approached him._

_“Describe the pain.”_

_Sarek barely needed to look up to meet his father’s eyes, nearly equaling him in height now at the age of seventeen._

_“A physical, burning sensation.  It seems to come from the deepest part of my mind, and yet, from outside.  It is distant…and yet close.  And isolated in the smallest of locations, buried.”_

_Skon looked perplexed, and then lifted his hand._

_“Will you permit me?”_

_Sarek nodded, and Skon melded with him._

_The familiar and safe presence of his father’s mind was an instant anchor for Sarek, and he found his disorientation leaving.  Now secure, he followed his father’s search into his mind for the source of the pain._

_It was as a vapor was being drawn out from an imperceptibly small source.  Dark, like smoke, until it reached the light of his conscious thoughts._

_A flash of emotion startled them both, and they locked eyes with each other as they understood the emotion to be anger._

_But Sarek was not its source._

_With a slight gasp, Skon withdrew from the meld and steadied himself._

_Sarek felt alone without his father’s presence, but then realized he wasn’t._

_Anger, and some other emotion akin to disgust, were now plainly communicated to him._

T’Rea…

_“The source of the pain is your bond with T’hur-Ayya,” Skon explained._

_“She is in pain?” Sarek asked._

_“That is the most logical explanation.”_

_Sarek turned back into his bedroom and Skon followed, watching as Sarek accessed the comm system and contacted the home of his betrothed in Vulcana Regar._

_In a few moments, the face of her mother, T’Krit, appeared on the screen._

_“Sarek.  Skon,” the ebon-haired woman greeted._

_“I must speak with T’hur-Ayya,” Sarek said._

_“She is not here,” T’Krit replied._

_Sarek glanced over his shoulder at his father, who nodded at him to continue._

_“I have felt her pain through our bond,” Sarek explained, deciding not to mention the emotions he was also aware of.  “Do you know where she is?”_

_Something in T’Krit’s eyes changed when Sarek said her daughter was in pain.  She turned and looked away at something, and moment’s later the thin face of Suubar joined his wife’s in the monitor._

_“What has happened?” the man asked crisply._

_“I have felt that T’hur-Ayya is in pain.  Where is she?”_

_Suubar’s eyes seemed to become harder.  “We shall see to this.”_

_The pain, still emanating like a vapor, urged Sarek to continue.  “I must speak with her.”_

_“Do not concern yourself,” Suubar said again, and closed the communication channel._

_Sarek whirled around with a sharp intake of breath—only to look into the calm and wise eyes of his father._

_The younger vulcan blinked and then slowly released his breath.  “Forgive me.  I displayed emotion.”_

_“It is understandable,” his father replied.  “At your young age and with little experience with your bond, it is natural to want to ensure the safety of your betrothed.”_

_Skon had also turned—albeit more calmly—and was returning to the great room.  Sarek followed him._

_“I must go to Vulcana Regar.”_

_“Your presence will not help.  And may in fact worsen the situation.”_

_Sarek stopped and looked at his father’s back as the man continued through the room.  At that moment his mother entered from the kitchen._

_“What has happened?” she asked._

_Skon glanced back at Sarek before answering._

_“Our son experienced pain through his bond.  When he called T’hur-Ayya’s home, her parents said she was not there and refused his offer to come.”_

_Sarek watched as understanding came quickly to his mother’s eyes.  He quickly stepped forward to meet his two parents, looking between them._

_“Explain.”_

_The two older vulcans exchanged a glance, and then his mother spoke._

_“Your mate is failing in her_  tal’oth.  _That is the source of her pain.”_

_The logic of his mother’s answer was plain to Sarek, but for one thing._

_“Why is she undertaking the ritual before the proper age?”_

_Skon and his wife exchanged another glance._

_“She is the right age,” Skon answered this time._

Then logically…

_“T'hur-Ayya is three years older than I,” Sarek concluded._

_“Yes, my son.  And for you to witness her failure would only encourage an emotional response.  It is best to let her parents tend to her, until she is ready to make her next attempt.”_

_“But Sarek,” his mother said, “you have already done more than her parents could do.  Without your bond to alert you to her pain, they would not have known until it was too late.”_

_Sarek raised an eyebrow in perplexity.  “Does she not have a bond with her parents?”_

_Skon and T’Lara looked at each other again, and not for the first time in the ten years that he had been bonded to T’Rea did he believe that information was being kept from him._

_“Father.  Mother,” he said, before they could make an excuse as they had done so often in the past.  “I wish to know what it is that you do not want me to know.”_

_His mother raised her brows in question at his father, who silently sighed and then sat on the divan._

_T’Lara followed suit, and Sarek sat next to them and folded his hands in his lap, waiting._

_“They did not bond with her.  They intend for her to achieve_  kolinahr _and wanted no risk of emotional attachment.”_

_Sarek thought about that.  It was unheard of for a vulcan child to not be bonded to their parents._

_“That is in disagreement with their decision to give her a bondmate,” he finally said._

_“No one would need to know about the lack of a family bond.  But to not have a marriage bond, as you know, is impossible.”_

_Sarek did know.  He would never forget traveling with his mother to Vega where she had fallen ill.  The vegan doctors cured her illness, but the alien medicine had affected her body chemistry and caused her to enter_  pon farr  _prematurely, and her husband consequently due to their marriage bond.  They had barely reached one another in time._

_It had been a shocking experience, but one which made Sarek regard the ways and traditions of his people with a greater respect._

_“Why did you choose her for me?” Sarek asked, suddenly realizing that his parents must have known all along about his mate’s age and her family’s unconventional ways._

_The adults glanced at one another again.  Sarek was becoming wearied of repeatedly witnessing that behavior._

_“Suubar and T’Krit,” Skon began slowly, “are both of the House of T’Klaas.  And T’Krit is a direct descendant.”_

_“T’Klaas himself was a descendant of J’Kah.  For most this would be merely a curiosity, but their family has built their identity upon it,” Skon explained._

_Sarek thought of the times he had visited T’hur-Ayya and the different artifacts displayed in and around her family’s home.  While the teachings of Surak predominated, there were also images honoring ancient vulcan history as well._

_“They are delusional,” his mother said._

_“My wife,” Skon stared at her, but she was unperturbed._

_“They place more value on lineage than merit.  They think their daughter greater than others because of her heritage.”_

_Sarek felt ill.  For years, he had wondered why his bride and her parents never seemed pleased with him.  But if their fundamental viewpoint was flawed, then they never would be._

_“Why choose her to bond with me?” Sarek asked again._

_“Suubar has served under my father for years, since before your mother and I were married,” Skon said.  “And almost from the time you were born, he began asking my father if you could be his daughter’s mate.”_

_“They would only accept someone from the lineage of Surak for her,” his mother added._

_“And after Suubar’s persistence and with the example of his good service, my father told me we should agree.”_

_“At the time, we only knew that T’hur-Ayya was older.  We did not know of her family’s…unusual ways until after you were bonded.”_

_With this newfound information, Sarek felt he must increase his efforts to know T’Rea.  She was always with him, in his mind; a presence he was aware of at all times but was neither a distraction nor a help.  She was simply with him.  And yet whenever they met face-to-face she seemed more distant._

_He thought his new knowledge of his bride may in fact assist in the building of their relationship, since he felt now he could better understand her eccentricities—even if they did have an emotional basis._

_“Mother…” Sarek said, recalling something she had said, “why would they only accept someone from the house of Surak as her mate?”_

_His parents glanced at each other again.  Sarek felt a highly illogical desire to sigh._

_“It is only speculation,” his father said, “but we believe they wish to…remake the ancient royal bloodline.”_

_Sarek followed that thought to its logical conclusion.  At seventeen years of age, he had given scarcely a passing thought to his hypothetical future children.  But apparently T’Rea—or at least her parents—had._

_“To what end?” Sarek asked._

_“We don’t know,” his mother said.  “It is wholly illogical.”_

_Sarek steepled his fingers outward in front of his midsection and lowered his chin to his chest as he thought.  Clearly the motivations and aspirations of his mate’s parents had had an impact on her, but how much he did not know.  As soon as it was appropriate, he would see her and determine what her beliefs truly were._

_Another sliver of pain, easily managed this time, sliced slowly along the thread that was his mental bond with T’Rea._

_He wondered suddenly, why had she failed?_

 

 

For the first time in almost two years, Sarek felt an infinitesimal brightening deep within his brain from a place that had long been dark.  He was tempted to probe it, but banished the thought as quickly as he did the memories.

But the memories had stirred an emotion within him regarding the plight of the andorians that for once he didn’t suppress.

From what he knew about humans they seemed keen to discard aspects of their culture circumstantially to the point where entire civilizations could be lost to time.  Contrarily, vulcans maintained their centuries-old culture almost obsessively due to their disastrous biology.

Reason aside, Sarek believed now that it was logical to remember and maintain one’s culture for the valuable lessons that could be learned in doing so.

But what now of the andorians, whose entire culture was dependent upon the ice?  

They had no ancient drawings in caves or old cities to be excavated.  The people lived and died under the ice, dependent upon it for everything.  

If their world ceased to be able to support them, there would be little left behind for future explorers to find.

“Jonathan.”

Archer looked up sadly.

“Have they made plans to relocate the entire population?”

“You know they won’t do that.  They’re too…andorian.”

“They must.”

Archer leaned forward, his eyes narrowed in familiar intensity.

“I already tried to convince them.  You were there.  If they wouldn’t listen to _me_ , do you really think they’re going to listen to anyone else?  Besides, I thought you were here to talk about the tellarites.”

Archer leaned back heavily after the outburst, his aged body not wanting to keep up with the energy of his mind.

Sarek gazed at the human for several seconds before speaking.

“Please accept my apologies.”

After a moment Archer peered at him and offered a sheepish grin.  “I suppose I take the idea of an entire world’s destruction pretty personally.”

“Understandably so.  But you are correct.  The official reason for my coming is to discuss the tellarites.”

For the rest of the evening Sarek deliberately avoided talk of the andorian crisis, but added it to his list of side projects along with the education problem and now potential conspiracy he and Archer had discussed.  But it was apparent from the expression on the human’s face that the plight of the blue-skinned race never fully left his thoughts.

Just as T’Rea’s death was never far from his.

 

 


End file.
